^j^'HC^ 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


sill  DONALD  MACKENZIE  WALL  AG 

K.c.i.i:..  k.c.v.o. 


Volume  XXII 


V 


1S!^ 


^1^ 


Copyright,  1910 
J.    H.    MILLET    CO. 


TIIK  •  I'MMIMKN  •  PRFSS 

|w.u...] 
mi  111 » I  Mil)  •  M  c-rt  •  L  •  M  •  A 


/!> 


CONTENTS 

lAFTEB  PAGE 

Editorial  Note ix 

I     Travelling  ix  Russia 1 

II    In  the  Northern  Forests 42 

III  Voluntary  Exile 57 

IV  The  Village  Priest        78 

V    A  Medical  Consultation 96 

VI    A  Peasant  Family  of  the  Old  Type      .  110 

VII    The  Peasantry  of  the  North       ....  128 

VIII     The  Mir,  or  Village  Community      .  164 

IX    Tartar  Villages 187 

X    The  Towns  and  the  Mercantile  Classes  .  204 

XI    Lord  Novgorod  the  Great 227 

XII    The  Imperial  Administration  and  the  Offi- 
cials    245 

XIII  Landed  Proprietors  of  the  Old  School  269 

XIV  Proprietors  of  the  Modern  School       .  298 


5165'?'7 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Page 

Marriage  Procession  in  the  Reign  of  the  Silent  Tsar 

Frontispiece 

The  Great  Cannon  at  Moscow 64 

Russian  Peasants  in  a  Procession  for  Rain  ....  160 

Market  Place,  Odessa 224 

Winter  Palace   and  Column  of  Alexander,  St.  Peters- 
burg             252 

An  Old  Fortress  in  Baku,  now  a  Lighthouse            .  288 


vn 


EDITORIAL    NOTE 

RUSSIA,  the  most  easterly  country  of  Europe, 
stretching  far  away  across  the  whole  of  North- 
ern Asia  to  the  Far  East,  abutting  on  Turkey, 
Persia,  Afghanistan,  and  the  Chinese  Empire,  is,  next  to 
the  British,  the  most  powerful  empire  in  the  world.  Its 
position  and  power  as  affecting  the  Orient  make  it  an 
object  of  overpowering  interest  to  all  who  have  relations 
with  that  part  of  the  globe,  and  few  of  the  great  world 
problems  can  be  properly  studied  without  taking  into 
account  the  position  which  this  vast  empire  holds  with 
regard  to  them. 

Its  history  is  part  of  European  history,  and  of  Orien- 
tal history  as  well;  its  diversified  people  and  its  vast 
proportions  make  its  government  and  its  politics  an  inter- 
esting and  diflBcult  problem  worthy  of  careful  study. 
Its  climate  and  its  natural  products,  animal,  vegetable, 
and  mineral,  and  its  manufactures  are  important  factors 
in  the  world's  commerce;  the  rapid  growth  of  its  people 
and  the  gradual  removal  of  restrictions  on  trade  from 
over-seas  have  of  recent  years  invested  it  with  special 
importance  in  the  eyes  of  our  own  manufacturers  and 
exporters.  The  religions,  the  morals  and  manners,  and 
the  education  of  its  p>eople,  its  language  and  literature, 
its  army  and  navy,  and  in  a  word  all  that  concerns  Rus- 
sian affairs,  have  a  profound  importance  for  the  Amer- 
ican people,  and  all  these  and  many  other  matters  have 

ix 


EDITORIAL    NOTE 

been  dealt  with  once  for  all  in  the  three  volumes  devoted 
to  the  great  Russian  Empire.  The  work  is  the  standard 
one  on  the  subject.  No  one,  before  Sir  Donald  Mackenzie 
Wallace  wrote,  has  had  such  opportunities  of  studying  it, 
and  there  is  in  no  language  a  clearer  and  more  interest- 
ing exposition  of  it. 

Charles  Welsh. 


RUSSIA 


VOL.  I 

CHAPTER   I 

TRAVELLING  IN  RUSSIA 

OF  course  travelling  in  Russia  is  no  longer 
what  it  was.  During  the  last  quarter  of 
a  century  a  vast  net-work  of  railways  has 
been  constructed,  and  one  can  now  travel  in  a 
comfortable  first-class  carriage  from  Berlin  to  St. 
Petersburg  or  Moscow,  and  thence  to  Odessa, 
Sebastopol,  the  lower  Volga,  or  even  the  foot  of  the 
Caucasus;  and,  on  the  whole,  it  must  be  admitted 
that  the  railways  are  tolerably  comfortable.  In 
winter  the  carriages  are  kept  warm  by  small  iron 
stoves,  such  as  we  sometimes  see  in  steamers, 
assisted  by  double  windows  and  double  doors  —  a 
very  necessary  precaution  in  a  land  where  the  ther- 
mometer often  descends  to  30°  below  zero.  The 
trains  never  attain,  it  is  true,  a  high  rate  of  speed 
—  so  at  least  English  and  Americans  think  —  but 
then  we  must  remember  that  Russians  are  rarely 
in  a  hurry,  and  like  to  have  frequent  opportuni- 
ties of  eating  and  drinking.  In  Russia  time  is  not 
money;  if  it  were,  nearly  all  the  subjects  of  the 
Tsar  would  always  have  a  large  stock  of  ready  money 
on  hand,  and  would  often  have  great  difficulty  in 

BDSSIA    I  —  1  1 


RUSSIA 

spending  it.  In  reality,  be  it  parenthetically  re- 
marked, a  Russian  with  a  superabundance  of  ready 
money  is  a  phenomenon  rarely  met  with  in  real  life. 
In  conveying  passengers  at  the  rate  of  from  fif- 
teen to  thirty  miles  an  hour,  the  railway  companies 
do  at  least  all  that  they  promise;  but  in  one  very 
important  respect  they  do  not  always  strictly  fulfil 
their  engagements.  The  traveller  takes  a  ticket  for 
a  certain  town,  and  on  arriving  at  what  he  imagines 
to  be  his  destination,  he  may  find  merely  a  railway- 
station  surrounded  by  fields.  On  making  inquiries, 
he  finds,  to  his  disappointment,  that  the  station  is 
by  no  means  identical  with  the  town  bearing  the 
same  name,  and  that  the  railway  has  fallen  several 
miles  short  of  fulfilling  the  bargain,  as  he  under- 
stood the  terms  of  the  contract.  Indeed,  it  might 
almost  be  said  that  as  a  general  rule  railways  in 
Russia,  like  camel-drivers  in  certain  Eastern  coun- 
tries, studiously  avoid  the  towns.  This  seems  at 
first  a  strange  fact.  It  is  possible  to  conceive  that 
the  Bedouin  is  so  enamoured  of  tent  life  and  no- 
madic habits,  that  he  shuns  a  town  as  he  would  a 
man-trap;  but  surely  civil  engineers  and  railway 
contractors  have  no  such  dread  of  brick  and  mor- 
tar. The  true  reason,  I  suspect,  is  that  land  within 
or  immediately  without  the  municipal  barrier  is 
relatively  dear,  and  that  the  railways,  being  com- 
pletely beyond  the  invigorating  influence  of  healthy 
competition,  can  afford  to  look  upon  the  comfort 
and  convenience  of  passengers  as  a  secondary  con- 
sideration. 

2 


TRAVELLING    IN    RUSSIA 

It   is   but   fair   to  state   that   in  one  celebrated 
instance  neither  engineers  nor  railway  contractors 
were  to  blame.     From  St.  Petersburg  to  Moscow 
the  locomotive  runs  for  a  distance  of  400  miles, 
almost  as  "the  crow"  is  supposed  to  fly,  turning 
neither  to  the  right  hand  nor  to  the  left.     For  fif- 
teen weary  hours  the  passenger  in  the  express  train 
looks  out  on  forest  and  morass,  and  rarely  catches 
sight  of  human  habitation.     Only  once  he  perceives 
in  the  distance  what  may  be  called  a  town;  it  is 
Tver  w^hich  has  been  thus  favoured,  not  because  it 
is  a   place  of  importance,   but   simply  because   it 
happened  to  be  near  the  straight  line.     And  why 
was  the  railway  constructed  in  this  extraordinary 
fashion?     For  the  best  of  all  reasons  —  because  the 
Tsar  so  ordered  it.     When  the  preliminary  survey 
was  being  made,  Nicholas  learned  that  the  officers 
entrusted  with  the  task  —  and  the  Minister  of  Ways 
and  Roads  in  the  number  —  were  being  influenced 
more  by  personal  than  technical  considerations,  and 
he   determined   to  cut   the   Gordian   knot   in   true 
Imperial  style.     When  the  Minister  laid  before  him 
the  map  with  the  intention  of  explaining  the  pro- 
posed route,  he  took  a  ruler,  drew  a  straight  line 
from  the  one  terminus  to  the  other,  and  remarked 
in  a  tone  that  precluded  all  discussion,  "You  will 
construct  the  line  so!"     And  the  line  was  so  con- 
structed —  remaining    to   all    future   ages,   like   St. 
Petersburg  and  the  Pyramids,  a  magnificent  monu- 
ment of  autocratic  power. 

Formerly  this  well-known  incident  was  often  cited 

3 


RUSSIA 

in  whispered  philippics  to  illustrate  the  evils  of  the 
autocratic  form  of  government.  Imperial  whims, 
it  was  said,  over-ride  grave  economic  considerations. 
In  recent  years,  however,  a  change  seems  to  have 
taken  place  in  public  opinion,  and  some  people  now 
venture  to  assert  that  this  so-called  Imperial  whim 
was  an  act  of  far-seeing  policy.  As  by  far  the 
greater  part  of  the  goods  and  passengers  are  carried 
the  whole  length  of  the  line,  it  is  well  that  the  line 
should  be  as  short  as  possible,  and  that  branch 
lines  should  be  constructed  to  the  towns  lying  to 
the  right  and  left.  Apart  from  political  considera- 
tions, it  must  be  admitted  that  a  good  deal  may  be 
said  in  support  of  this  view. 

When  the  course  of  a  new  railway  has  to  be 
determined,  the  military  authorities  are  always 
consulted,  and  their  opinion  has  a  great  influence  on 
the  ultimate  decision.  The  consequence  of  this  is 
that  the  railway-map  of  Russia  presents  to  the  eye 
of  the  tactician  much  that  is  quite  unintelligible  to 
the  ordinary  observer  —  a  fact  that  will  become 
apparent  to  the  uninitiated  as  soon  as  a  war  breaks 
out  in  Eastern  Europe.  Russia  is  no  longer  what 
she  was  in  the  days  of  the  Crimean  War,  when 
troops  and  stores  had  to  be  conveyed  hundreds  of 
miles  by  the  most  primitive  means  of  transport. 
At  that  time  she  had  only  about  750  miles  of  rail- 
way; now  she  has  more  than  11,000  miles,  and  every 
year  new  lines  are  constructed. 

The  water-communication  has  likewise  in  recent 
years  been  greatly  improved.     On  all  the  principal 

4 


TRAVELLING     IN    RUSSIA 

rivers  there  are  now  tolerably  good  steamers.  Un- 
fortunately, the  climate  puts  serious  obstructions 
in  the  way  of  navigation.  For  nearly  half  of  the 
year  the  rivers  are  covered  with  ice,  and  during  a 
great  part  of  the  open  season  navigation  is  difficult. 
When  the  ice  and  snow  melt,  the  rivers  overflow 
their  banks  and  lay  a  great  part  of  the  low-lying 
country  under  water,  so  that  many  villages  can  only 
be  approached  in  boats;  but  very  soon  the  flood 
subsides,  and  the  water  falls  so  rapidly,  that  by 
mid-summer  the  larger  steamers  have  great  diffi- 
culty in  picking  their  way  among  the  sand-banks. 
The  Neva  alone  —  that  queen  of  northern  rivers  — 
has  at  all  times  a  plentiful  supply  of  water. 

Besides  the  Neva,  the  rivers  commonly  visited  by 
the  tourist  are  the  Volga  and  the  Don,  which  form 
part  of  what  may  be  called  the  Russian  grand  tour. 
Englishmen  who  w^ish  to  see  something  more  than 
St.  Petersburg  and  Moscow  generally  go  by  rail  to 
Nizhni-Novgorod,  where  they  visit  the  great  fair, 
and  then  get  on  board  one  of  the  Volga  steamers. 
For  those  who  have  mastered  the  important  fact 
that  there  is  no  fine  scenery  in  Russia,  the  voyage 
down  the  river  is  pleasant  enough.  The  left  bank 
is  as  flat  as  the  banks  of  the  Rhine  below  Cologne, 
but  the  right  bank  is  high,  occasionally  well  wooded, 
and  not  devoid  of  a  certain  tame  picturesqueness. 
Early  on  the  second  day  the  steamer  reaches  Kazan, 
once  the  capital  of  an  independent  Tartar  khanate, 
and  still  containing  a  considerable  Tartar  popula- 
tion.    Several    "metchets"    (as    the    Mahometan 

5 


RUSSIA 

houses  of  prayer  are  here  termed)  with  their  dimin- 
utive minarets  in  the  lower  part  of  the  town,  show 
that  Islamism  still  survives,  though  the  klianate  was 
annexed  to  Muscovy  more  than  three  centuries  ago; 
but  the  town,  as  a  whole,  has  a  European  rather 
than  an  Asiatic  character.  If  any  one  visits  it  in 
the  hope  of  getting  "a  glimpse  of  the  East,"  he 
will  be  grievously  disappointed,  unless,  indeed,  he 
happen  to  be  one  of  those  imaginative  tourists  who 
always  discover  what  they  wish  to  see,  especially 
when  it  can  be  made  the  subject  of  an  effective 
chapter  in  their  *' Impressions  de  Voyage."  And 
yet  it  must  be  admitted  that,  of  all  the  towns  on 
the  route,  Kazan  is  the  most  interesting.  Though 
not  Oriental,  it  has  a  peculiar  character  of  its  own, 
whilst  all  the  others  —  Simbirsk,  Samara,  Sara- 
tof  —  are  as  uninteresting  as  Russian  provincial 
towns  commonly  are.  The  full  force  and  solem- 
nity of  that  expression  will  be  explained  in  the 
sequel. 

Probably  about  sunrise  on  the  third  day  some- 
thing like  a  range  of  mountains  will  appear  on  the 
horizon.  It  may  be  well  to  say  at  once,  to  prevent 
disappointment,  that  in  reality  nothing  worthy  of 
the  name  of  mountain  is  to  be  found  in  that  part  of 
the  country.  The  nearest  mountain-range  in  that 
direction  is  the  Caucasus,  which  is  several  hundred 
miles  distant,  and  consequently  cannot  by  any  pos- 
si})ility  be  seen  from  the  deck  of  a  steamer.  The 
elevations  in  question  are  simply  a  low  range  of 
hills,   called   the   Zhigulinskiya   Gori.     In    Western 

G 


TRAVELLING    IN    RUSSIA 

Europe  they  would  not  attract  much  attention,  but 
*'in  the  kingdom  of  the  bhnd,"  as  the  French  prov- 
erb has  it,  "the  one-eyed  man  is  king;"  and  in 
a  flat  region  Hke  Eastern  Russia  these  hills  form 
a  prominent  feature.  Though  they  have  nothing 
of  Alpine  grandeur,  yet  their  well-wooded  slopes, 
coming  down  to  the  water's  edge  —  especially  when 
covered  with  the  delicate  tints  of  early  spring,  or 
the  rich  yellow  and  red  autumnal  foliage  —  leave 
an  impression  on  the  memory  not  easily  effaced. 

On  the  whole  —  with  all  due  deference  to  the 
opinions  of  my  patriotic  Russian  friends  —  I  must 
say  that  Volga  scenery  does  not  repay  the  time, 
trouble,  and  expense  which  a  voyage  from  Nizhni 
to  Tsaritsin  demands.  There  are  some  pretty  bits 
here  and  there,  but  they  are  "few  and  far  be- 
tween." A  glass  of  the  most  exquisite  wine  diluted 
with  twenty  gallons  of  water  makes  a  very  insipid 
beverage.  The  deck  of  the  steamer  is  generally 
much  more  interesting  than  the  banks  of  the  river. 
There  one  meets  with  curious  travelling  compan- 
ions. The  majority  of  the  passengers  are  probably 
Russian  peasants,  who  are  always  ready  to  chat 
freely  without  demanding  a  formal  introduction, 
and  to  relate  to  a  new  acquaintance  the  simple 
story  of  their  lives.  Often  I  have  thus  whiled 
away  the  weary  hours  both  pleasantly  and  profit- 
ably, and  have  alwaj^s  been  impressed  with  the 
peasant's  homely  common  sense,  good-natured  kind- 
liness, half-fatalistic  resignation,  and  strong  desire 
to  learn  something  about  foreign  countries.     This 

7 


RUSSIA 

last  peculiarity  makes  him  question  as  well  as  com- 
municate, and  his  questions,  though  sometimes 
apparently  childish,  are  generally  to  the  point. 
Among  the  passengers  are  probably  also  some  rep- 
resentatives of  the  various  Finnish  tribes  inhabiting 
this  part  of  the  country;  they  may  be  interesting 
to  the  ethnologist  who  loves  to  study  physiognomy, 
but  they  are  far  less  sociable  than  the  Russians. 
Nature  seems  to  have  made  them  silent  and  mo- 
rose, whilst  their  conditions  of  life  have  made  them 
shy  and  distrustful.  The  Tartar,  on  the  other  hand, 
is  almost  sure  to  be  a  lively  and  amusing  compan- 
ion. Most  probably  he  is  a  pedler  or  small  trader 
of  some  kind.  The  bundle  on  which  he  reclines 
contains  his  stock-in-trade,  composed,  perhaps,  of 
cotton  printed  goods  and  bright-coloured  cotton 
handkerchiefs.  He  himself  is  enveloped  in  a  capa- 
cious greasy  klialat,  or  dressing-gown,  and  wears  a 
fur  cap,  though  the  thermometer  may  be  at  90°  in 
the  shade.  The  roguish  twinkle  in  his  small  pierc- 
ing eyes  contrasts  strongly  with  the  sombre,  stolid 
expression  of  the  Finnish  peasants  sitting  near  him. 
He  has  much  to  relate  about  St.  Petersburg,  Mos- 
cow, and  perhaps  Astrakhan;  but,  like  a  genuine 
trader,  he  is  very  reticent  regarding  the  mysteries 
of  his  own  craft.  Towards  sunset  he  retires  with 
his  companions  to  some  quiet  spot  on  the  deck  to 
recite  the  evening  prayers.  Here  all  the  good 
Mahometans  on  board  assemble  and  stroke  their 
beards,  kneel  on  their  little  strips  of  carpet  and  pros- 
trate themselves,  all  keeping  time  as  if  they  were 

8 


TRAVELLING    IN    RUSSIA 

performing  some  new  kind  of  drill  under  the  eye 
of  a  severe  drill-sergeant. 

If  the  voyage  is  made  about  the  end  of  Septem- 
ber, when  the  traders  are  returning  home  from  the 
fair  at  Nizhni-Novgorod,  the  ethnologist  will  have 
a  still  better  opportunity  of  study.  He  will  then 
find  not  only  representatives  of  the  Finnish  and 
Tartar  races,  but  also  Armenians,  Circassians, 
Persians,  Bokhariots,  and  other  Orientals  —  a 
motley  and  picturesque  but  decidedly  unsavoury 
cargo. 

However  great  the  ethnographical  variety  on 
board  may  be,  the  traveller  will  probably  find  that 
four  days  on  the  Volga  are  quite  enough  for  all 
practical  and  sesthetic  purposes,  and  instead  of 
going  on  to  Astrakhan  he  will  quit  the  steamer  at 
Tsaritsin.  Here  he  will  find  a  railway  of  about  fifty 
miles  in  length,  connecting  the  Volga  with  the  Don. 
I  say  advisedly  a  railway,  and  not  a  train,  for  there 
are  only  two  trains  a  week,  so  that  if  you  lose  one 
train  you  have  to  wait  about  three  days  for  the 
next.  Prudent,  nervous  people  prefer  travelling  by 
the  road;  and  they  do  well,  for  this  line  has,  I 
believe,  the  undisputed  honour  of  being  the  most 
infamous  in  Europe.  But  perhaps,  after  all,  we  ought 
to  apply  here  the  principle  that  all  things  are  less 
dreadful  than  they  seem.  The  strange  jolts  and 
mysterious  noises  may  naturally  alarm  a  person  of 
nervous  temperament,  but  a  man  of  ordinary  nerve 
can  easily  preserve  his  equanimity,  for  the  pace  is 
so  slow  that  running  off  the  rails  would  be  merely  an 

9 


RUSSIA 

amusing  episode,  and  even  a  collision  could  scarcely 
be  attended  with  serious  consequences. 

Some  time  after  the  arrival  of  the  bi-weekly  train 
at  Kalatch,  a  steamer  starts  for  Rostoff,  which  is 
situated  near  the  mouth  of  the  river.  The  naviga- 
tion of  the  Don  is  much  more  difficult  than  that  of 
the  Volga.  The  river  is  extremely  shallow,  and  the 
sand-banks  are  continually  shifting,  so  that  many 
times  in  the  course  of  the  day  the  steamer  runs 
aground.  Sometimes  she  is  got  off  by  simply  re- 
versing the  engines,  but  not  unfrequently  she  sticks 
so  fast  that  the  engines  have  to  be  assisted.  This 
is  effected  in  a  curious  way.  The  captain  always 
gives  a  number  of  stalwart  Cossacks  a  free  pas- 
sage on  condition  that  they  will  give  him  the  assist- 
ance he  requires;  and  as  soon  as  the  ship  sticks 
fast,  he  orders  them  to  jump  overboard  with  a  stout 
hawser  and  haul  her  off!  The  task  is  not  a  pleas- 
ant one,  especially  as  the  poor  fellows  cannot  after- 
wards change  their  clothes;  but  the  order  is  always 
obeyed  with  alacrity  and  without  grumbling.  Cos- 
sacks, it  would  seem,  have  no  personal  acquaintance 
with  colds  and  rheumatism. 

In  the  most  approved  manuals  of  geography  the 
Don  figures  as  one  of  the  principal  European  rivers; 
and  its  length  and  breadth  give  it  a  right  to  be 
considered  as  such,  but  its  depth  in  many  parts 
is  ludicrously  out  of  proportion  to  its  length  and 
breadth.  I  remember  one  day  seeing  the  captain 
of  a  large,  flat-bottomed  steamer  slacken  speed,  to 
avoid  running  down  a  man  on  horseback  who  was 

10 


TRAVELLING    IN    RUSSIA 

attempting  to  cross  his  bows  in  the  middle  of  the 
stream.  Another  day  a  not  less  characteristic  inci- 
dent happened.  A  Cossack  passenger  wished  to  be 
set  down  at  a  place  where  there  was  no  pier,  and 
on  being  informed  that  there  was  no  means  of  land- 
ing him,  coolly  jumped  overboard  and  walked  ashore. 
This  simple  method  of  disembarking  cannot,  of 
course,  be  recommended  to  those  who  have  no 
special  local  knowledge  regarding  the  exact  position 
of  sand-banks  and  deep  pools. 

Good  serviceable  fellows  are  those  Cossacks  who 
drag  the  steamer  off  the  sand -banks,  and  well  do 
they  deserve  a  free  passage.  Both  they  and  their 
richer  companions  who  can  afford  to  pay  for  tickets 
are  agreeable,  interesting  fellow-travellers.  Many 
of  them  can  relate  from  their  own  experience,  in 
plain,  unvarnished  style,  stirring  episodes  of  irregu- 
lar warfare;  and  some  of  the  older  men  amongst 
them  can  add  curious  unpublished  incidents  of  the 
Crimean  War.  If  they  happen  to  be  in  a  very  com- 
municative mood  they  may  divulge  a  few  secrets 
regarding  their  simple,  primitive  commissariat  sys- 
tem —  of  which  I  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  here- 
after. Whether  they  are  confidential  or  not,  the 
traveller  who  knows  the  language  will  spend  his 
time  more  profitably  and  pleasantly  in  chatting 
with  them  than  in  gazing  listlessly  at  the  uninter- 
esting country  through  which  he  is  passing. 

Unfortunately,  these  Don  steamers  carry  a  large 
number  of  free  passengers  of  another  and  more 
objectionable  kind,  who  do  not  confine  themselves 

11 


RUSSIA 

to  the  deck,  but  unceremoniously  find  their  way 
into  the  cabin,  and  prevent  thin-skinned  travellers 
from  sleeping.  I  know  too  little  of  Natural  history 
to  decide  whether  these  agile,  bloodthirsty  parasites 
are  of  the  same  species  as  those  which  in  England 
assist  unofficially  the  Sanitary  Commissioners  by 
punishing  uncleanliness,  but  I  may  say  that  their 
function  in  the  system  of  created  things  is  essentially 
the  same,  and  they  fulfil  it  with  a  zeal  and  energy 
beyond  all  praise.  Possessing  for  my  own  part  a 
happy  immunity  from  their  indelicate  attentions, 
and  being  perfectly  innocent  of  entomological  curi- 
osity, I  might,  had  I  been  alone,  have  overlooked 
their  existence,  but  I  was  constantly  reminded  of 
their  presence  by  less  happily  constituted  mortals, 
and  the  complaints  of  the  sufferers  received  a  curious 
official  confirmation.  On  arriving  at  the  end  of  the 
journey,  I  asked  permission  to  spend  the  night  on 
board,  and  I  noticed  that  the  captain  acceded  to  my 
request  with  a  readiness  and  warmth  not  quite  in 
keeping  with  his  ordinary  demeanour.  Next  morn- 
ing the  fact  was  fully  explained.  When  I  began 
to  express  my  thanks  for  having  been  allowed  to 
pass  the  night  in  a  comfortable  cabin,  my  host 
interrupted  me  with  a  good-natured  laugh,  and 
assured  me  that,  on  the  contrary,  he  was  under 
obligations  to  me.  "You  see,"  he  said,  assuming  an 
air  of  mock  gravity,  "I  have  always  on  board  a 
large  body  of  light  cavalry,  and  when  I  sleep  alone 
in  the  cabin  they  make  a  combined  attack  on  me; 
whereas,  when  some  one  shares  the  cabin  with  me, 

12 


TRAVELLING    IN    RUSSIA 

they  always  divide  their  forces.  So,  you  see,  you 
have  unconsciously  performed  an  heroic  act,  and 
laid  me  under  a  deep  obligation."  If  this  was,  as  I 
half  suspected,  merely  an  ingenious  way  of  conceal- 
ing hospitality,  it  must  be  admitted  that  it  was  ben 
trovato  —  a  piece  of  elaborate  politeness  to  be  ex- 
pected from  a  Spanish  hidalgo  rather  than  from  the 
captain  of  a  Don  steamer. 

On  certain  steamers  on  the  Sea  of  Azof  the  privacy 
of  the  sleeping-cabin  is  disturbed  by  still  more 
objectionable  intruders;  I  mean  rats.  During  one 
short  voyage  which  I  made  on  board  the  Kertchy 
these  disagreeable  visitors  became  so  importunate 
in  the  lower  regions  of  the  vessel  that  the  ladies 
obtained  permission  to  sleep  in  the  deck-saloon. 
After  this  arrangement  had  been  made,  we  unfortu- 
nate male  passengers  received  redoubled  attention 
from  our  tormentors.  Awakened  early  one  morn- 
ing by  the  sensation  of  something  running  over 
me  as  I  lay  in  my  berth,  I  conceived  a  method 
of  retaliation.  It  seemed  to  me  possible  that,  in 
the  event  of  another  visit,  I  might,  by  seizing  the 
proper  moment,  kick  the  rat  up  to  the  ceiling  with 
such  force  as  to  produce  concussion  of  the  brain 
and  instant  death.  Very  soon  I  had  an  opportunity 
of  putting  my  plan  into  execution.  A  significant 
shaking  of  the  little  curtain  at  the  foot  of  the  berth 
showed  that  it  was  being  used  as  a  scaling-ladder. 
I  lay  perfectly  still,  quite  as  much  interested  in 
the  sport  as  if  I  had  been  waiting,  rifle  in  hand, 
for   big  game.     As  if  cognisant  of  my  plan,  and 

13 


RUSSIA 

anxious  to  play  creditably  his  part  in  the  experi- 
ment, the  rat  stepped  into  my  berth  and  took  up 
his  position  on  my  foot.  In  an  instant  he  was 
shot  upwards.  First  was  heard  a  sharp  knock  on 
the  ceiling,  and  then  a  dull  '*thud"  on  the  floor. 
The  precise  extent  of  the  injuries  inflicted  I  never 
discovered,  for  the  victim  had  sufiicient  strength 
and  presence  of  mind  to  effect  his  escape;  and  the 
gentleman  at  the  other  side  of  the  cabin,  who  had 
been  roused  by  the  noise,  protested  against  my 
repeating  the  experiment,  on  the  ground  that, 
though  he  was  willing  to  take  his  own  share  of  the 
intruders,  he  strongly  objected  to  having  other 
people's  rats  kicked  into  his  berth. 

On  such  occasions  it  is  of  no  use  to  complain  to 
the  authorities.  "When  I  met  the  captain  on  deck 
I  related  to  him  what  had  happened,  and  protested 
vigorously  against  passengers  being  exposed  to  such 
annoyances.  After  listening  to  me  patiently,  he 
coolly  replied,  entirely  overlooking  my  protesta- 
tions, "Ah!  I  did  better  than  that  this  morning; 
I  allowed  my  rat  to  get  under  the  blanket,  and  then 
smothered  him!" 

Railways  and  steamboats,  even  when  their  ar- 
rangements leave  much  to  be  desired,  invariably 
effect  a  salutary  revolution  in  hotel  accommoda- 
tion but  this  revolution  is  of  necessity  gradual. 
Foreign  hotel-keepers  must  immigrate  and  give  the 
example;  suitable  houses  must  be  built;  servants 
must  be  properly  trained;  and,  above  all,  the  native 
travellers  must  learn  the  usages  of  civilised  society. 

14 


TRAVELLING    IN    RUSSIA 

In  Russia  this  revolution  is  only  in  progress,  and  is 
as  yet  by  no  means  complete.  The  cities  where  for- 
eigners most  do  congregate  —  St.  Petersburg,  Mos- 
cow, Odessa  —  already  possess  hotels  that  will  bear 
comparison  with  those  of  Western  Europe,  and  some 
of  the  more  important  provincial  towns  can  offer 
very  respectable  accommodation;  but  there  is  still 
much  to  be  done  before  the  West-European  can 
travel  with  comfort  even  on  the  principal  routes. 
Cleanliness,  the  first  and  most  essential  element  of 
comfort,  as  we  understand  the  term,  is  still  a  rare 
commodity,  and  often  cannot  be  procured  at  any 
price. 

Even  in  good  hotels,  when  they  are  of  the 
genuine  Russian  type,  there  are  certain  peculiari- 
ties which,  though  not  in  themselves  objectionable, 
strike  a  foreigner  as  peculiar.  Thus,  when  you 
alight  at  such  an  hotel,  you  are  expected  to  exam- 
ine a  considerable  number  of  rooms,  and  to  inquire 
about  the  respective  prices.  When  you  have  fixed 
upon  a  suitable  apartment,  you  will  do  well,  if  you 
wish  to  practise  economy,  to  propose  to  the  land- 
lord considerably  less  than  he  demands;  and  you 
will  generally  find,  if  you  have  a  talent  for  bargain- 
ing, that  the  rooms  may  be  hired  for  somewhat  less 
than  the  sum  first  stated.  You  must  be  careful, 
however,  to  leave  no  possibility  of  doubt  as  to  the 
terms  of  the  contract.  Perhaps  you  assume  that, 
as  in  taking  a  cab  a  horse  is  always  supplied  with- 
out special  stipulation,  so  in  hiring  a  bedroom  the 
bargain  includes  a  bed  and  the  necessary  appurte- 

15 


RUSSIA 

nances.  Such  an  assumption  will  not  always  be 
justified.  The  landlord  may  perhaps  give  you  a 
bedstead  without  extra  charge,  but  if  he  be  uncor- 
rupted  by  foreign  notions,  he  will  certainly  not 
spontaneously  supply  you  with  bed-linen,  pillows, 
blankets,  and  towels.  On  the  contrary,  he  will 
assume  that  you  carry  all  these  articles  with  you, 
and  if  you  do  not,  you  must  pay  for  those  which 
you  borrow  from  him. 

This  ancient  custom  has  produced  among  certain 
Russians  a  curious  kind  of  fastidiousness  to  which  we 
are  strangers.  They  strongly  dislike  using  sheets, 
blankets,  and  towels,  which  are  in  a  certain  sense 
public  property,  just  as  we  should  strongly  object 
putting  on  clothes  which  had  been  already  worn  by 
other  people.  And  the  feeling  may  be  developed 
in  people  not  Russian  by  birth.  For  my  own  part, 
I  confess  to  having  been  conscious  of  a  certain 
disagreeable  feeling  on  returning  in  this  respect  to 
the  usages  of  so-called  civilised  Europe.  Evidently 
fastidiousness  is  not  an  innate  quality,  but  the  result 
of  the  conditions  to  which  we  have  been  accustomed ; 
and,  as  such,  it  may  easily  take  very  curious  forms. 

The  inconvenience  of  carrying  about  these  essen- 
tial articles  of  bedroom  furniture  is  by  no  means  as 
great  as  may  at  first  sight  be  supposed.  Bedrooms 
in  Russia  are  always  heated  during  cold  weather, 
so  that  one  light  blanket,  which  may  be  used  also 
as  a  railway  rug,  is  quite  sufficient,  whilst  sheets, 
pillow-cases,  and  towels  take  up  very  little  space 
in  a  portmanteau.     The  most  cumbrous  object  is 

16 


TRAVELLING    IN    RUSSIA 

the  pillow,  for  air-cushions,  having  always  a  dis- 
agreeable odour,  are  not  well  suited  for  the  purpose. 
But  Russians  are  accustomed  to  this  encumbrance. 
In  former  days  —  as  at  the  present  time  in  those 
parts  of  the  country  where  there  are  neither  rail- 
ways nor  macadamised  roads  —  people  travelled  in 
carts  or  carriages  without  springs,  and  in  these 
instruments  of  torture  a  huge  pile  of  cushions  or 
pillows  is  necessary  to  avoid  contusions  and  dis- 
locations. On  the  railways  —  except  perhaps  the 
infamous  line  which  connects  the  Volga  with  the 
Don  —  the  jolts  and  shaking  are  not  deadly  enough 
to  require  such  an  antidote;  but,  even  in  unconser- 
vative  Russia,  customs  outlive  the  conditions  that 
created  them:  and  at  every  railway -station  you  may 
see  men  and  women  carrying  about  their  pillows 
with  them  as  we  carry  wraps  and  hat-boxes.  A 
genuine  Russian  merchant  who  loves  comfort  and 
respects  tradition  may  travel  without  a  portman- 
teau, but  he  considers  his  pillow  as  an  indispensable 
article  de  voyage. 

To  return  to  the  hotel.  When  you  have  com- 
pleted the  negotiations  with  the  landlord,  you  will 
notice  that,  unless  you  have  a  servant  with  you, 
the  waiter  prepares  to  perform  the  duties  of  valet 
de  chambre.  Do  not  be  surprised  at  his  officiousness, 
which  seems  founded  on  the  assumption  that  you 
are  three-fourths  paralysed.  Formerly,  every  well- 
born Russian  had  a  valet  always  in  attendance,  and 
never  dreamed  of  doing  for  himself  anything  which 
could  by  any  possibility  be  done  for  him.     You 

BU88IA    I  —  2  17 


RUSSIA 

notice  that  there  is  no  bell  in  the  room,  and  no 
mechanical  means  of  communicating  with  the  world 
below  stairs.  That  is  because  the  attendant  was 
supposed  to  be  always  within  call,  and  it  is  so  much 
easier  to  shout  than  to  get  up  and  ring  the  bell. 
In  the  good  old  times  all  this  was  quite  natural. 
The  well-born  Russian  had  commonly  a  superabun- 
dance of  domestic  serfs,  and  there  was  no  reason 
why  one  or  two  of  them  should  not  accompany 
their  master  when  his  Honour  undertook  a  jour- 
ney. An  additional  person  in  the  Tarantass  did  not 
increase  the  expense,  and  considerably  diminished 
the  little  unavoidable  inconveniences  of  travel.  But 
times  have  changed.  Fifteen  years  ago  the  domes- 
tic serfs  were  emancipated  by  Imperial  Ukaz.  Free 
servants  demand  wages ;  and  on  railways  or  steamers 
a  single  ticket  does  not  include  an  attendant.  The 
present  generation  must  therefore  get  through  life 
with  a  more  modest  supply  of  valets,  and  must 
learn  to  do  with  his  own  hands  much  that  was  for- 
merly performed  by  serf  labour.  Still,  a  gentleman 
brought  up  in  other  conditions  cannot  be  expected 
to  dress  himself  without  assistance,  and  accordingly 
the  waiter  remains  in  your  room  to  act  as  valet. 
Perhaps,  too,  in  the  early  morning  you  may  learn  in 
an  unpleasant  way  that  other  parts  of  the  old  system 
are  not  yet  extinct.  You  may  hear,  for  instance,  re- 
sounding along  the  corridors  such  an  order  as  —  "Pe- 
trusha!  Petrusha!!  Stakan  vody ! ! ! "  ("Little  Peter, 
little  Peter,  a  glass  of  water!")  shouted  in  a  stentorian 
voice  that  would  startle  the  Seven  Sleepers. 

18 


TRAVELLING    IN    RUSSIA 

When  the  toilet  operations  are  completed,  and 
you  order  tea  —  one  always  orders  tea  in  Russia 
—  you  will  be  asked  whether  you  have  your  own 
tea  and  sugar  with  you.  If  you  are  an  experienced 
traveller  you  will  be  able  to  reply  in  the  affirmative, 
for  good  tea  can  be  bought  only  in  certain  well- 
known  shops,  and  can  never  be  found  in  hotels. 
A  huge,  steaming  tea-urn,  called  a  "Samovar"  — 
etymologically,  a  "self-boiler"  —  will  be  brought  in, 
and  you  will  make  your  tea  according  to  your  taste. 
The  tumbler,  you  know  of  course,  is  to  be  used  as 
a  cup,  and  when  filled  may  be  conveniently  employed 
for  cauterising  the  points  of  your  fingers.  If  you 
should  happen  to  have  anything  eatable  or  drink- 
able in  your  travelling-basket,  you  need  not  hesitate 
to  take  it  out  at  once,  for  the  waiter  will  not  feel 
at  all  aggrieved  or  astonished  at  your  doing  nothing 
"for  the  good  of  the  house."  The  twenty  or  twenty- 
five  kopeks  that  you  pay  for  the  Samovar  —  tea- 
pot, tumbler,  saucer,  spoon,  and  slop-basin  being 
included  under  the  generic  term  "Pribor"  —  frees 
you  from  all  corkage  and  other  dues. 

These  and  similar  remnants  of  old  customs  are 
now  rapidly  disappearing,  and  will,  doubtless,  in 
a  very  few  years  be  things  of  the  past  —  things  to 
be  picked  up  in  out-of-the-way  corners,  and  chron- 
icled by  social  archaeology;  but  they  are  still  to  be 
found  in  the  best  hotels  in  tow^ns  not  unknown  to 
Western  Europe. 

Many  of  these  old  customs,  and  especially  the 
old  method  of  travelling,  may  still  be  studied  in  all 

19 


RUSSIA 

their  pristine  purity  throughout  a  great  part  of 
the  country.  Though  railway  construction  has  been 
pushed  forward  with  great  energy  during  the  last 
twenty  years,  the  fire-horse  has  not  yet  crossed  the 
Ural;  and  in  what  may  be  called  Cis-Uralia  there 
are  still  vast  regions  —  some  of  them  larger  than 
the  United  Kingdom  —  where  the  ancient  solitudes 
have  never  been  disturbed  by  the  shrill  whistle  of 
the  locomotive,  and  roads  have  remained  in  their 
primitive  condition.  Even  in  the  central  region 
one  may  still  travel  hundreds  of  miles  without  ever 
encountering  anything  that  recalls  the  name  of 
Macadam. 

If  popular  rumour  is  to  be  trusted,  there  is  some- 
where in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland,  by  the  side 
of  a  turnpike,  a  large  stone  bearing  the  following 
doggerel  inscription :  — 

"If  you  had  seen  this  road  before  it  was  made, 
You'd  lift  up  your  hands  and  bless  General  Wade." 

Any  educated  Englishman  reading  this  strange 
announcement  would  naturally  remark  that  the 
expression,  "a  road  before  it  is  made,"  is  a  logical 
contradiction  probably  of  Hibernian  origin;  but  I 
have  often  thought,  during  my  wanderings  in  Rus- 
sia, that  the  expression,  if  not  logically  justifiable, 
might  for  the  sake  of  vulgar  convenience  be  legal- 
ised by  a  Permissive  Bill.  The  truth  is  that,  as  a 
Frenchman  might  say,  "there  are  roads  and  roads'* 
—  roads  made  and  roads  unmade,  roads  artificial 
and  roads  natural.    Now,  in  Russia,  roads  are  nearly 

20 


TRAVELLING    IN    RUSSIA 

all  of  the  unmade,  natural  kind,  and  are  so  con- 
servative in  their  nature  that  they  have  at  the 
present  day  precisely  the  same  appearance  as  they 
had  many  centuries  ago.  They  have  thus  for  im- 
aginative minds  something  of  what  is  called  "the 
charm  of  historical  association."  The  only  percep- 
tible change  that  takes  place  in  them  during  a 
series  of  generations  is  that  the  ruts  shift  their 
position.  When  these  become  so  deep  that  fore- 
wheels  can  no  longer  fathom  them,  it  becomes  nec- 
essary to  begin  making  a  new  pair  of  ruts  to  the 
right  or  left  of  the  old  ones;  and  as  the  roads  are 
commonly  of  gigantic  breadth,  there  is  no  diffi- 
culty in  finding  a  place  for  the  operation.  How 
the  old  ones  get  filled  up  I  cannot  explain;  but  as 
I  have  never  seen  in  any  part  of  the  country  a 
human  being  engaged  in  road-repairing,  I  assume 
that  beneficent  Nature  somehow  accomplishes  the 
task  without  human  assistance,  either  by  means  of 
alluvial  deposits,  or  by  some  other  cosmical  action 
best  known  to  physical  geographers. 

On  the  roads  one  occasionally  encounters  bridges; 
and  here,  again,  I  have  discovered  in  Russia  a  key 
to  the  mysteries  of  Hibernian  phraseology.  Some 
years  ago  an  Irish  member  declared  to  the  House  of 
Commons  that  the  Church  w^as  *'the  bridge  that 
separated  the  two  great  sections  of  the  Irish  people." 
As  bridges  commonly  connect  rather  than  separate, 
the  metaphor  was  received  with  roars  of  laughter. 
If  the  honourable  members  who  joined  in  the  hilari- 
ous applause  had  travelled  much  in  Russia,  they 

21 


RUSSIA 

would  have  been  more  moderate  in  their  merri- 
ment; for  in  that  country  bridges  often  act  as 
a  barrier  rather  than  a  connecting  link,  and  to 
cross  a  river  by  a  bridge  is' often  what  is  termed  in 
popular  phrase  "a  tempting  of  Providence."  The 
cautious  driver  will  generally  prefer  to  take  to  the 
water,  if  there  is  a  ford  within  a  reasonable  distance, 
though  both  he  and  his  human  load  may  be  obliged, 
in  order  to  avoid  getting  wet  feet,  to  assume  undig- 
nified postures  that  would  afford  admirable  material 
for  the  caricaturist.  But  this  little  bit  of  discom- 
fort, even  though  the  luggage  should  be  soaked  in 
the  process  of  fording,  is  as  nothing  compared  to  the 
danger  of  crossing  by  the  bridge.  As  I  have  no  desire 
to  harrow  unnecessarily  the  feelings  of  the  reader,  I 
refrain  from  all  description  of  ugly  accidents,  ending 
in  bruises  and  fractures,  and  shall  simply  describe  in 
a  few  words  how  a  successful  passage  is  effected. 

^\^len  it  is  possible  to  approach  the  bridge  with- 
out sinking  up  to  the  knees  in  mud,  it  is  better  to 
avoid  all  risks  by  walking  over  and  waiting  for  the 
vehicle  on  the  other  side;  and  when  this  is  impos- 
sible, a  preliminary  survey  is  advisable.  To  your 
inquiries  whether  it  is  safe,  your  Yemstchik  (post- 
boy) is  sure  to  reply,  "Nitchevo!"  —  a  word  which, 
according  to  the  dictionaries,  means  "nothing,'* 
but  which  has,  in  the  mouths  of  the  peasantry,  a 
great  variety  of  meanings,  as  I  may  explain  at 
some  future  time.  In  the  present  case  it  may  be 
roughly  translated,  "There  is  no  danger."  "Nit- 
chevo,  Barin,  proyedem"  ("There  is  no  danger,  sir; 

22 


TRAVELLING    IN    RUSSIA 

we  shall  get  over"),  he  repeats.  You  may  refer  to 
the  generally  rotten  appearance  of  the  structure, 
and  point  in  particular  to  the  great  holes  sufficient 
to  engulf  half  a  post-horse.  *'Ne  bos',  Bog  ponao- 
zhet"  ("Do  not  fear,  God  will  help"),  replies  coolly 
your  phlegmatic  Jehu.  You  may  have  your  doubts 
as  to  whether  in  this  irreligious  age  Providence  will 
intervene  specially  for  your  benefit;  but  your  Yem- 
stchik,  who  has  more  faith  or  fatalism,  leaves  you 
little  time  to  solve  the  problem.  Making  hurriedly 
the  sign  of  the  cross,  he  gathers  up  his  reins,  waves 
his  little  whip  in  the  air,  and,  shouting  lustily,  urges 
on  his  team.  The  operation  is  not  wanting  in  ex- 
citement. First  there  is  a  short  descent;  then  the 
horses  plunge  wildly  through  a  zone  of  deep  mud; 
next  comes  a  fearful  jolt,  as  the  vehicle  is  jerked 
up  on  to  the  first  planks;  then  the  transverse 
planks,  which  are  but  loosely  held  in  their  places, 
rattle  and  rumble  ominously,  as  the  experienced, 
sagacious  animals  pick  their  way  cautiously  and 
gingerly  among  the  dangerous  holes  and  crevices; 
lastly,  you  plunge  with  a  horrible  jolt  into  a  second 
mud  zone,  and  finally  regain  terra  firma,  conscious 
of  that  pleasant  sensation  which  a  young  officer  may 
be  supposed  to  feel  after  his  first  cavalry  charge  in 
real  warfare. 

Of  course  here,  as  elsewhere,  familiarity  breeds 
indifference.  When  you  have  successfully  crossed 
without  serious  accident  a  few  hundred  bridges  of 
this  kind,  you  learn  to  be  as  cool  and  fatalistic  as 
your  Yemstchik. 

23 


RUSSIA 

The  roads  are  still  in  such  a  disgraceful  condition. 
But  for  this,  as  for  everything  else  in  the  world, 
there  is  a  good  and  sufficient  reason.  The  country 
is  still,  comparatively  speaking,  thinly  populated, 
and  in  many  regions  it  is  difficult,  or  practically 
impossible,  to  procure  in  sufficient  quantity  stone 
of  any  kind,  and  especially  hard  stone  fit  for  road- 
making.  Besides  this,  when  roads  are  made,  the 
severity  of  the  climate  renders  it  difficult  to  keep 
them  in  good  repair. 

When  a  long  journey  has  to  be  undertaken  through 
a  region  in  which  there  are  no  railways,  there  are 
several  ways  in  which  it  may  be  effected.  In  former 
days,  when  time  was  of  still  less  value  than  at  pres- 
ent, many  landed  proprietors  travelled  with  their 
own  horses,  and  carried  with  them,  in  one  or  more 
capacious,  lumbering  vehicles,  all  that  was  required 
for  the  degree  of  civilisation  which  they  had  at- 
tained; and  their  requirements  were  often  consider- 
able. The  grand  seigneur,  for  instance,  who  spent 
the  greater  part  of  his  life  amidst  the  luxury  of  the 
court  society,  naturally  took  with  him  all  the  port- 
able elements  of  civilisation.  His  baggage  included, 
therefore,  camp-beds,  table-linen,  silver  plate,  a  bat- 
terie  de  cuisine,  and  a  French  cook.  The  pioneers 
and  part  of  the  commissariat  force  were  always 
sent  on  in  advance,  so  that  his  Excellency  found 
at  each  halting-place  everything  prepared  for  his 
arrival.  The  poor  owner  of  a  few  dozen  serfs  dis- 
pensed, of  course,  with  the  elaborate  commissariat 
department,  and  contented  himself  with  such  modest 

24 


TRAVELLING    IN    RUSSIA 

fare  as  could  be  packed  in  the  holes  and  corners 
of  a  single  Tarantass. 

It  will  be  well  to  explain  here,  parenthetically, 
what  a  Tarantass  is,  for  I  shall  often  have  occasion 
to  use  the  word.  It  may  be  briefly  defined  as  a 
phaeton  without  springs.  The  function  of  springs 
is  imperfectly  fulfilled  by  two  parallel  wooden  bars, 
placed  longitudinally,  on  which  is  fixed  the  body  of 
the  vehicle.  It  is  commonly  drawn  by  three  horses 
—  a  strong,  fast  trotter  in  the  shafts,  flanked  on 
each  side  by  a  light,  loosely-attached  horse  that 
goes  along  at  a  gallop.  The  points  of  the  shafts 
are  connected  by  the  "Duga,"  which  looks  like  a 
gigantic,  badly-formed  horseshoe  rising  high  above 
the  collar  of  the  trotter.  To  the  top  of  the  Duga 
is  attached  the  bearing-rein,  and  underneath  the 
highest  part  of  it  is  fastened  a  big  bell  —  in  the 
southern  provinces  I  found  two,  and  sometimes 
even  three  bells  —  which  may  often  be  distinctly 
heard  a  mile  off.  The  use  of  the  bell  is  variously 
explained.  Some  say  it  is  in  order  to  frighten  the 
wolves,  and  others  that  it  is  to  avoid  collisions 
on  the  narrow  forest-paths.  But  neither  of  these 
explanations  is  entirely  satisfactory.  It  is  used 
chiefly  in  summer,  when  there  is  no  danger  of  an 
attack  from  wolves;  and  the  number  of  bells  is 
greater  in  the  south,  where  there  are  no  forests. 
Perhaps  the  original  intention  was  —  I  throw  out 
the  hint  for  the  benefit  of  a  certain  school  of  archae- 
ologists—  to  frighten  away  evil  spirits;  and  the 
practice  has  been  retained  partly  from  unreasoning 

25 


RUSSIA 

conservatism,  and  partly  with  a  view  to  lessen  the 
chances  of  collisions.  As  the  roads  are  noiselessly 
soft,  and  the  drivers  not  always  vigilant,  the  dan- 
gers of  collision  are  considerable  diminished  by  the 
ceaseless  peal.  Altogether,  the  Tarantass  is  well 
adapted  to  the  conditions  in  which  it  is  used. 
The  curious  way  in  which  the  horses  are  harnessed 
recalls  the  war-chariot  of  ancient  times.  The 
horse  in  the  shafts  is  compelled  by  the  bearing- 
rein  to  keep  his  head  high  and  straight  before  him 
—  though  the  movement  of  his  ears  shows  plainly 
that  he  would  very  much  like  to  put  it  somewhere 
further  away  from  the  tongue  of  the  bell  —  but 
the  side  horses  gallop  freely,  turning  their  heads 
outwards  in  classical  fashion.  I  believe  that  this 
position  is  assumed  not  from  any  sympathy  on  the 
part  of  these  animals  for  the  remains  of  classical 
art,  but  rather  from  the  natural  desire  to  keep  a 
sharp  eye  on  the  driver.  Every  movement  of  his 
right  hand  they  watch  with  close  attention,  and  as 
soon  as  they  discover  any  symptoms  indicating  an 
intention  of  using  the  whip,  they  immediately  show 
a  desire  to  quicken  the  pace. 

Now  that  the  reader  has  gained  some  idea  of 
what  a  Tarantass  is,  we  may  return  to  the  modes 
of  travelling  through  the  regions  which  are  not  yet 
supplied  with  railways. 

However  enduring  and  long-winded  horses  may 
be,  they  must  be  allowed  sometimes,  during  a  long 
journey,  to  rest  and  feed.  Travelling  with  one's  own 
horses  is  therefore  necessarily  a  slow  operation,  and 

26 


TRAVELLING    IN    RUSSIA 

is  already  antiquated.  People  who  value  their  time 
prefer  to  make  use  of  the  Imperial  Post-organisa- 
tion. On  all  the  principal  lines  of  communication 
there  are  regular  post-stations,  at  from  ten  to  twenty 
miles  apart,  where  a  certain  number  of  horses  and 
vehicles  are  kept  for  the  convenience  of  travellers. 
To  enjoy  the  privileges  of  this  arrangement,  one  has 
to  apply  to  the  proper  authorities  for  a  "Podor- 
ozhnaya"  —  a  large  sheet  of  paper  stamped  with 
the  Imperial  Eagle,  and  bearing  the  name  of  the 
recipient,  the  destination,  and  the  number  of  horses 
to  be  supplied.  In  return  for  this  document  a  small 
sum  is  paid  for  imaginary  road-repairs;  the  rest  of 
the  sum  is  paid  by  instalments  at  the  respective 
stations.  Armed  with  this  document,  you  go  to  the 
post-station  and  demand  the  requisite  number  of 
horses.  Three  is  the  number  generally  used,  but  if 
you  travel  lightly  and  are  indifferent  to  appearances, 
you  may  modestly  content  yourself  with  a  pair. 
The  vehicle  is  a  kind  of  Tarantass,  but  not  such  as 
I  have  just  described.  The  essentials  in  both  are 
the  same,  but  those  which  the  Imperial  Govern- 
ment provides  resemble  an  enormous  cradle  on 
wheels,  rather  than  a  phaeton.  An  armful  of  hay 
spread  over  the  bottom  of  the  wooden  box  is  sup- 
posed to  play  the  part  of  cushions.  You  are  ex- 
pected to  sit  under  the  arched  covering,  and  extend 
your  legs  so  that  the  feet  lie  beneath  the  driver's 
seat;  but  you  will  do  well,  unless  the  rain  happens 
to  be  coming  down  in  torrents,  to  get  this  covering 
unshipped,  and  travel  without  it.     Wlien  used,  it 

27 


RUSSIA 

painfully  curtails  the  little  freedom  of  movement 
that  you  enjoy,  and  when  you  are  shot  upwards 
by  some  obstruction  on  the  road,  it  is  apt  to  ar- 
rest your  ascent  by  giving  you  a  violent  blow  on 
the  top  of  the  head. 

It  is  to  be  hoped  that  you  are  in  no  hurry  to 
start,  otherwise  your  patience  may  be  sorely  tried. 
The  horses,  when  at  last  produced,  may  seem  to  you 
the  most  miserable  screws  that  it  was  ever  your  mis- 
fortune to  behold;  but  you  had  better  refrain  from 
expressing  your  feelings,  for  if  you  use  violent,  un- 
complimentary language,  it  may  turn  out  that  you 
have  been  guilty  of  gross  calumny.  I  have  seen 
many  a  team  composed  of  animals  which  a  third- 
class  London  costermonger  would  have  spurned, 
and  in  which  it  was  barely  possible  to  recognise 
the  equine  form,  do  their  duty  in  highly  creditable 
style,  and  go  along  at  the  rate  of  twelve  or  fourteen 
miles  an  hour,  under  no  stronger  incentive  than  the 
voice  of  the  Yemstchik.  Indeed,  the  capabilities  of 
these  lean,  slouching,  ungainly  quadrupeds  are  often 
astounding  when  they  are  under  the  guidance  of  a 
man  who  knows  how  to  drive  them.  Though  such 
a  man  commonly  carries  a  little  harmless  whip,  he 
rarely  uses  it  except  by  waving  it  horizontally  in 
the  air.  His  incitements  are  all  oral.  He  talks  to 
his  cattle  as  he  would  to  animals  of  his  own  species 
—  now  encouraging  them  by  tender,  caressing  epi- 
thets, and  now  launching  at  them  expressions  of  in- 
dignant scorn.  At  one  moment  they  are  his  "little 
doves,"  and  at  the  next  they  have  been  transformed 

28 


TRAVELLING    IN    RUSSIA 

into  "cursed  hounds."  How  far  they  understand 
and  appreciate  this  curious  mixture  of  endearing 
cajolery  and  contemptuous  abuse  it  is  difficult  to 
say,  but  there  is  no  doubt  that  it  somehow  has 
upon  them  a  strange  and  powerful  influence. 

Any  one  who  undertakes  a  journey  of  this  kind 
should  possess  a  well-knit,  muscular  frame  and  good 
tough  sinews,  capable  of  supporting  an  unlimited 
amount  of  jolting  and  shaking;  at  the  same  time, 
he  should  be  well  inured  to  all  the  hardships  and 
discomfort  incidental  to  what  is  vaguely  termed 
"roughing  it."  When  he  wishes  to  sleep  in  a  post- 
station,  he  will  find  nothing  softer  than  a  wooden 
bench,  unless  he  can  induce  the  keeper  to  put  for 
him  on  the  floor  a  bundle  of  hay,  which  is  perhaps 
softer,  but  on  the  whole  more  disagreeable  than  the 
deal  board.  Sometimes  he  will  not  get  even  the 
wooden  bench,  for  in  ordinary  post-stations  there  is 
but  one  room  for  travellers,  and  the  two  benches  — 
there  are  rarely  more  —  may  be  already  occupied. 
When  he  does  obtain  a  bench,  and  succeeds  in  falling 
asleep,  he  must  not  be  astonished  if  he  is  disturbed 
once  or  twice  during  the  night  by  people  who  use 
the  apartment  as  a  waiting-room  whilst  the  post- 
horses  are  being  changed.  These  passers-by  may 
even  order  a  Samovar,  and  drink  tea,  chat,  laugh, 
smoke,  and  make  themselves  otherwise  disagreeable, 
utterly  regardless  of  the  sleepers.  Then  there  are 
the  other  intruders,  of  which  I  have  already  spoken 
when  describing  the  steamers  on  the  Don.  I  must 
apologise  to  the  reader  for  again  introducing  this 

^9 


RUSSIA 

disagreeable  subject.  iEsthetically  it  is  a  mistake, 
but  I  have  no  choice.  My  object  is  to  describe 
travelling  in  Russia  as  it  is,  and  any  description 
which  did  not  give  due  prominence  to  this  species 
of  discomfort  would  be  untrue  —  like  a  description 
of  Alpine  climbing  with  no  mention  of  glaciers.  I 
shall  refrain,  however,  from  all  details,  and  confine 
myself  to  a  single  hint  for  the  benefit  of  future 
travellers.  As  you  will  have  abundant  occupation 
in  the  work  of  self-defence,  learn  to  distinguish 
between  belligerents  and  neutrals,  and  follow  the 
simple  principle  of  international  law,  that  neutrals 
should  not  be  molested.  They  may  be  very  ugly, 
but  ugliness  does  not  justify  assassination.  If,  for 
instance,  you  should  happen  in  awaking  to  notice 
a  few  black  or  brown  beetles  running  about  your 
pillow,  restrain  your  murderous  hand!  If  you  kill 
them  you  commit  an  act  of  unnecessary  bloodshed; 
for  though  they  may  playfully  scamper  around  you, 
they  will  do  you  no  bodily  harm. 

The  best  lodgings  to  be  found  in  some  of  the  small 
provincial  towns  are  much  worse  than  the  ordinary 
post-stations.  To  describe  the  filthiness  and  dis- 
comfort of  some  rooms  in  which  I  have  had  to  spend 
the  night  would  require  a  much  more  powerful 
pen  than  mine;  and  even  a  powerful  writer  in  enter- 
ing on  that  subject  would  involuntarily  make  a 
special  invocation  for  assistance  to  the  Muse  of  the 
Naturalistic  school. 

Another  requisite  for  a  journey  in  unfrequented 
districts    is   a   knowledge   of   the   language.     It   is 

30 


TRAVELLING   IN    RUSSIA 

popularly  supposed  that  if  you  are  familiar  with 
French  and  German  you  may  travel  anywhere  in 
Russia.  So  far  as  the  great  cities  and  chief  lines  of 
communication  are  concerned,  this  is  true,  but 
beyond  that  it  is  a  delusion.  The  Russian  has  not, 
any  more  than  the  West-European,  received  from 
Nature  the  gift  of  tongues.  Educated  Russians 
often  speak  one  or  two  foreign  languages  fluently, 
but  the  peasants  know  no  language  but  their  own, 
and  it  is  with  the  peasantry  that  one  comes  in  con- 
tact. And  to  converse  freely  with  the  peasant 
requires  a  considerable  familiarity  with  the  language 
—  far  more  than  is  required  for  simply  reading  a 
book.  Though  there  are  few  provincialisms,  and 
all  classes  of  the  people  use  the  same  words  —  except 
the  words  of  foreign  origin,  which  are  used  only  by 
the  upper  classes  —  the  peasant  always  speaks  in 
a  more  laconic  and  more  idiomatic  way  than  the 
educated  man. 

In  the  winter  months  travelling  is  in  some  respects 
pleasanter  than  in  summer,  for  snow  and  frost  are 
great  macadamisers.  If  the  snow  falls  evenly, 
there  is  for  some  time  the  most  delightful  road  that 
can  be  imagined.  No  jolts,  no  shaking,  but  a 
smooth,  gliding  motion,  like  that  of  a  boat  in  calm 
water,  and  the  horses  gallop  along  as  if  totally  uncon- 
scious of  the  sledge  behind  them.  Unfortunately, 
this  happy  state  of  things  does  not  last  long.  The 
road  soon  gets  cut  up,  and  deep  transverse  furrows 
are  formed.  How  these  furrows  come  into  exist- 
ence I  have  never  been  able  clearly  to  comprehend, 

31 


RUSSIA 

though  I  have  often  heard  the  phenomenon  explained 
by  men  who  imagined  they  understood  it.  What- 
ever the  cause  and  mode  of  formation  may  be,  cer- 
tain it  is  that  little  hills  and  valleys  do  get  formed, 
and  the  sledge,  as  it  crosses  over  them,  bobs  up  and 
down  like  a  boat  in  a  chopping  sea,  with  this  impor- 
tant difference,  that  the  boat  falls  into  a  yielding 
liquid,  whereas  the  sledge  falls  upon  a  solid  sub- 
stance, unyielding  and  unelastic.  The  shaking  and 
jolting  which  result  may  readily  be  imagined. 

There  are  other  discomforts,  too,  in  winter  travel- 
ling. So  long  as  the  air  is  perfectly  still,  the  cold 
may  be  very  intense  without  being  disagreeable; 
but  if  a  strong  head  wind  is  blowing,  and  the  ther- 
mometer ever  so  many  degrees  below  zero,  driving 
in  an  open  sledge  is  a  very  disagreeable  operation, 
and  noses  may  get  frostbitten  without  their  owners 
perceiving  the  fact  in  time  to  take  preventive 
measures.  Then  why  not  take  covered  sledges  on 
such  occasions?  For  the  simple  reason  that  they 
are  not  to  be  had;  and  if  they  could  be  procured,  it 
would  be  well  to  avoid  using  them,  for  they  are 
apt  to  produce  something  very  like  sea-sickness. 
Besides  this,  when  the  sledge  gets  overturned,  it 
is  pleasanter  to  be  shot  out  on  to  the  clean,  refresh- 
ing snow  than  to  be  buried  ignominiously  under  a 
pile  of  miscellaneous  baggage. 

The  chief  requisite  for  winter  travelling  in  these 
icy  regions  is  a  plentiful  supply  of  warm  furs.  An 
Englishman  is  very  apt  to  be  imprudent  in  this 
respect,  and  to  trust  too  much  to  his  natural  power 

32 


TRAVELLING   IN    RUSSIA 

of  resisting  cold.  To  a  certain  extent  this  con- 
fidence is  justifiable,  for  an  Englishman  often  feels 
quite  comfortable  in  an  ordinary  great  coat,  when 
his  Russian  friends  consider  it  necessary  to  envelope 
themselves  in  furs  of  the  warmest  kind;  but  it  may 
be  carried  too  far,  in  which  case  severe  punishment 
is  sure  to  follow,  as  I  once  learned  by  experience. 
I  may  relate  the  incident  as  a  warning  to  others. 

One  day  in  the  winter  of  1870-71  I  started  from 
Novgorod,  with  the  intention  of  visiting  some 
friends  at  a  cavalry  barracks  situated  about  ten 
miles  from  the  town.  As  the  sun  was  shining 
brightly,  and  the  distance  to  be  traversed  was 
short,  I  considered  that  a  light  fur  and  a  bashlyk 
—  a  cloth  hood  which  protects  the  ears  —  would  be 
quite  sufficient  to  keep  out  the  cold,  and  foolishly 
disregarded  the  warnings  of  a  Russian  friend  who 
happened  to  call  as  I  was  about  to  start.  Our 
route  lay  along  the  river  due  northward,  right  in 
the  teeth  of  a  strong  north  wind.  A  wintry  north 
wind  is  always  and  everywhere  a  disagreeable 
enemy  to  face;  let  the  reader  try  to  imagine  what 
it  is  when  the  Fahrenheit  thermometer  is  at  30° 
below  zero  —  or  rather  let  him  refrain  from  such 
an  attempt,  for  the  sensation  produced  cannot  be 
imagined  by  those  who  have  not  experienced  it. 
Of  course  I  ought  to  have  turned  back  —  at  least, 
as  soon  as  a  sensation  of  faintness  warned  me  that 
the  circulation  was  being  seriously  impeded  —  but 
I  did  not  wish  to  confess  my  imprudence  to  the 
friend  who  accompanied  me.     When  we  had  driven 

RU88IA    I  —  3  33 


RUSSIA 

about  three-fourths  of  the  way,  we  met  a  peasant- 
woman,  who  gesticulated  violently,  and  shouted 
something  to  us  as  we  passed.  I  did  not  hear  what 
she  said,  but  my  friend  turned  to  me  and  said  in 
an  alarming  tone  —  we  had  been  speaking  German 
—  *'Mein  Gott!  Ihre  Nase  ist  abgef rohren ! "  Now 
the  word  *'a6gef rohren,"  as  the  reader  will  under- 
stand, seemed  to  indicate  that  my  nose  was  frozen 
off,  so  I  put  up  my  hand  in  some  alarm  to  discover 
whether  I  had  inadvertently  lost  the  whole  or  part 
of  the  member  referred  to.  So  far  from  being  lost 
or  diminished  in  size,  it  was  very  much  larger  than 
usual,  and  at  the  same  time  as  hard  and  insensible 
as  a  bit  of  wood. 

"You  may  still  save  it,"  said  my  companion,  "if 
you  get  out  at  once  and  rub  it  vigorously  with 
snow." 

I  got  out  as  directed,  but  was  too  faint  to  do  any- 
thing vigorously.  My  fur  cloak  flew  open,  the  cold 
seemed  to  grasp  me  in  the  region  of  the  heart,  and 
I  fell  insensible. 

How  long  I  remained  unconscious  I  know  not. 
When  I  awoke  I  found  myself  in  a  strange  room, 
surrounded  by  dragoon  officers  in  uniform,  and  the 
first  words  I  heard  were,  "He  is  out  of  danger  now, 
but  he  will  have  a  fever." 

These  words  were  spoken,  as  I  afterwards  discov- 
ered, by  a  very  competent  surgeon;  but  the  proph- 
ecy was  not  fulfilled.  The  promised  fever  never 
came.  The  only  bad  consequences  were  that  for 
some  days  my  right  hand  remained  stiff,  and  during 

34 


TRAVELLING    IN    RUSSIA 

about  a  fortnight  I  had  to  conceal  my  nose  from 
public  view. 

If  this  little  incident  justifies  me  in  drawing  a 
general  conclusion,  I  should  say  that  exposure  to 
extreme  cold  is  an  almost  painless  form  of  death, 
but  that  the  process  of  being  resuscitated  is  very 
painful  indeed  —  so  painful,  that  the  patient  may 
be  excused  for  momentarily  regretting  that  oflScious 
people  prevented  the  temporary  insensibility  from 
becoming  "the  sleep  that  knows  no  waking." 

Between  the  alternate  reigns  of  winter  and  summer 
there  is  always  a  short  interregnum,  during  which 
travelling  in  Russia  by  road  is  almost  impossible. 
Woe  to  the  ill-fated  mortal  who  has  to  make  a  long 
road-journey  immediately  after  the  winter  snow  has 
melted;  or,  worse  still,  at  the  beginning  of  winter, 
when  the  autumn  mud  has  been  petrified  by  the 
frost,  and  not  yet  levelled  by  the  snow! 

At  all  seasons  the  monotony  of  a  journey  is 
pretty  sure  to  be  broken  by  little  unforeseen  epi- 
sodes of  a  more  or  less  disagreeable  kind.  An  axle 
breaks,  or  a  wheel  comes  off,  or  there  is  a  diflSculty 
in  procuring  horses.  As  an  illustration  of  the  graver 
episodes  which  may  occur,  I  shall  make  here  a  quo- 
tation from  my  diary. 

Early  in  the  morning  we  arrived  at  Maikop,  a 
small  town  commanding  the  entrance  to  one  of  the 
valleys  which  run  up  towards  the  main  range  of  the 
Caucasus.  On  alighting  at  the  post-station,  we  at 
once  ordered  horses  for  the  next  stage,  and  received 
the  laconic  reply,  "There  are  no  horses.'* 

35 


RUSSIA 

"And  when  will  there  be  some?'* 

"To-morrow!" 

This  last  reply  we  took  for  a  piece  of  playful 
exaggeration,  and  demanded  the  book  in  which, 
according  to  law,  the  departure  of  horses  is  duly 
inscribed,  and  from  which  it  is  easy  to  calculate 
when  the  first  team  should  be  ready  to  start.  A 
short  calculation  proved  that  we  ought  to  get  horses 
by  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  so  we  showed  the 
station-keeper  various  documents  signed  by  the 
Minister  of  the  Interior  and  other  influential  per- 
sonages, and  advised  him  to  avoid  all  contravention 
of  the  postal  regulations. 

These  documents,  which  proved  that  we  enjoyed 
the  special  protection  of  the  authorities,  had  gen- 
erally been  of  great  service  to  us  in  our  dealings  with 
rascally  station-keepers;  but  this  station-keeper  was 
not  one  of  the  ordinary  type.  He  was  a  Cossack, 
of  herculean  proportions,  with  a  great  bullet-shaped 
head,  short-cropped  bristly  hair,  shaggy  eyebrows, 
an  enormous  pendant  moustache,  a  defiant  air, 
and  a  peculiar  expression  of  countenance  which 
plainly  indicated  "an  ugly  customer."  Though  it 
was  still  early  in  the  day,  he  had  evidently  already 
imbibed  a  considerable  quantity  of  alcohol,  and  his 
whole  demeanour  showed  clearly  enough  that  he 
was  not  of  those  who  are  "pleasant  in  their  liquor." 
After  glancing  superciliously  at  the  documents,  as  if 
to  intimate  he  could  read  them  were  he  so  disposed, 
he  threw  them  down  on  the  table,  and,  thrusting 
his  gigantic  paws  into  his  capacious  trouser-pockets, 

36 


TRAVELLING   IN    RUSSIA 

remarked  slowly  and  decisively,  in  something  deeper 
than  a  double-bass  voice,  "You'll  have  horses 
to-morrow  morning." 

My  travelling  companion  was  a  Russian  gentle- 
man of  nervous,  excitable  temperament,  who  could 
handle  with  great  dexterity  that  vocabulary  of 
vituperation  in  which  his  native  tongue  is  peculiarly 
rich;  and  our  tormentor  was  a  man  who  might  have 
tried  severely  the  patience  of  a  Stoic  philosopher. 
The  scene  which  naturally  ensued  I  leave  to  the 
reader's  imagination.  Though  my  companion  be- 
haved, as  the  post-boys  graphically  described  it, 
"like  a  General,"  his  words  had  no  practical  result; 
and  we  at  last  decided  to  content  ourselves  with 
making  an  entry  in  the  Complaint  Book,  and  hiring 
horses  elsewhere. 

When  we  imagined  that  we  had  overcome  all 
obstacles,  and  were  about  to  start,  we  encountered 
new  and  unexpected  difficulties.  As  soon  as  Her- 
cules perceived  that  we  had  obtained  horses  without 
his  assistance,  he  offered  us  one  of  his  own  teams, 
and  refused  to  allow  us  to  depart  unless  we  con- 
sented to  cancel  the  complaint  which  we  had  entered 
against  him.  This  we  declined  to  do,  and  the  wordy 
warfare  began  afresh  with  redoubled  fury. 

Perceiving  that  at  any  moment  words  might  give 
place  to  something  more  deadly,  I  took  my  friend 
aside,  and  tried  to  convince  him  that  prudence  was 
the  better  part  of  valour.  I  represented  to  him  that 
a  revolver  should  never  be  used  except  in  the  direst 
necessity,  and  that  in  the  present  case  a  hand-to- 

37 


RUSSIA 

hand  fight  should  be  by  all  means  avoided.  Our 
opponent,  I  said,  was  evidently  no  pugilist,  and  knew 
nothing  of  "striking  straight  from  the  shoulder"  — 
for  this  latter  expression  I  could  find  no  Russian 
equivalent,  and  had  to  supply  the  deficiency  by 
pantomime  —  so  that  if  he  had  been  a  man  of  ordi- 
nary proportions,  a  few  rounds  might  have  been 
a  pleasant  amusement;  but  under  the  circumstances 
either  of  us  would  look  like  David  in  the  presence 
of  Goliath.  In  a  small  room  Goliath  could  easily 
close  with  his  antagonist,  and  then  would  inevi- 
tably happen  something  which  would  give  rise  to  a 
judicial  investigation,  and  end  in  a  verdict  of  "In- 
stantaneous death  through  violent  compression." 
Besides  this,  our  enemy  had  at  his  disposal  a  legion 
of  post-boys  and  strappers,  and  could  accordingly 
overwhelm  us  with  numbers.  Plainly  we  were  the 
weaker  party,  and  therefore  would  do  well  to  show 
ourselves  law-loving  respecters  of  the  national  insti- 
tutions. In  accordance  with  these  considerations, 
we  determined  to  apply  to  the  chief  of  rural  police, 
who  was  at  that  moment  in  the  town. 

It  was  arranged  that  my  friend  should  mount 
guard  over  the  baggage,  whilst  I  went  in  search  of 
the  police  officer.  As  I  was  about  to  start,  my 
friend  suggested  that  I  should  leave  with  him  my 
revolver.  To  this  I  objected,  for  I  feared  that  he 
might,  in  his  excitement,  make  an  imprudent  use 
of  it;  but  he  assured  me  that  he  would  avoid  all 
quarrelling  till  my  return;  and  I  acceded  to  his 
request.     Very   soon   I   had   reason   to   regret   this 

38 


TRAVELLING   IN   RUSSIA 

step.  On  returning  from  my  errand,  I  found  a  crowd 
round  the  post-station,  and  a  general  hubbub,  that 
indicated  only  too  plainly  that  the  decisive  action 
was  going  on,  or  had  been  fought  in  my  absence. 
Fearing  the  worst,  I  rushed  into  the  room.  The 
smoke  and  the  smell  of  gunpowder  showed  that  the 
artillery  had  been  used,  but  there  w^as  now  a  death- 
like silence.  When  my  eyes  had  become  a  little 
accustomed  to  the  smoky  darkness,  I  could  perceive 
a  confused  heap  of  furniture  and  baggage  on  the 
floor,  but  happily  there  was  no  human  form  among 
the  debris.  In  the  one  corner  stood  Goliath,  with 
two  companions  at  his  side,  and  in  the  other  stood 
my  friend,  disarmed.  Evidently  for  the  moment 
there  was  an  armistice. 

In  a  few  minutes  all  the  authorities  in  the  place 
had  assembled.  The  table  had  been  set  on  its  legs, 
a  candle  had  been  lit,  two  armed  Cossacks  stood  as 
sentries  at  the  door,  and  the  preliminary  investi- 
gation had  commenced.  The  chief  of  the  police 
sat  at  the  table,  and  wrote  rapidly  on  a  sheet  of 
foolscap  paper.  The  investigation  showed  that  two 
shots  had  been  fired  from  my  revolver,  and  two 
bullets  were  found  deeply  imbedded  in  the  wall. 
All  those  who  had  been  present  at  the  scuffle,  and 
many  more  who  knew  nothing  about  it  except  by 
hearsay,  were  duly  examined,  and  a  good  deal  of 
informal  mutual  recrimination  was  exchanged. 
More  than  once  the  ominous  words,  "pokushenie 
na  ubiistvo"  ("attempt  to  murder"),  were  pro- 
nounced, and  my  friend  was  assumed  to  be  the 

39 


RUSSIA 

assailant,  in  spite  of  his  protestations  to  the  con- 
trary. Things  looked  very  black  indeed.  We  had 
the  prospect  of  being  detained  in  this  miserable 
place  for  days  and  weeks,  till  the  insatiable  demon 
of  official  formality  had  been  fully  propitiated. 
And  then.''  —  I  did  not  like  to  think  of  that  question. 

When  things  were  thus  at  their  blackest  they 
suddenly  took  a  most  unexpected  turn,  and  the  deus 
ex  machina  appeared  precisely  at  the  right  moment, 
just  as  if  we  had  all  been  puppets  in  a  sensation 
novel.  The  noise  of  wheels  and  the  clatter  of  hoofs 
were  suddenly  heard  in  the  usual  approved  style, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  a  gentleman  entered  who 
happened  to  be  the  official  investigator  into  criminal 
affairs  —  what  is  called  in  French  procedure  the 
juge  d' instruction.  He  was  accidentally  passing 
through  the  village,  and  had  stopped  to  change 
horses.  Instead  of  a  few  minutes'  rest,  as  he  had 
expected,  he  found  a  heavy  bit  of  work.  Fortunately 
for  us,  he  was  equal  to  the  occasion.  Unlike  the 
majority  of  Russian  officials,  he  was  no  friend  of 
lengthy  procedure,  and  contrived,  with  the  help  of 
a  few  cigarettes,  to  make  the  case  quite  clear  in  a 
very  short  time.  There  was  here,  he  explained,  no 
case  of  attempt  to  murder,  or  anything  of  the  kind. 
My  friend  had  been  attacked  by  the  station-keeper 
and  his  two  assistants,  who  had  no  right  to  be  in 
the  travellers'  room,  and  he  had  fired  the  revolver 
to  frighten  his  assailants  and  bring  assistance. 

"A  Daniel!  yea,  a  Daniel!"  I  muttered  to  my- 
self, as  I  heard  this  explanation.     My  surprise  was 

40 


TRAVELLING    IN    RUSSIA 

excited  not  by  the  ingenuity  of  the  decision,  which  was 
nothing  more  than  a  simple  statement  of  what  had 
really  taken  place,  but  by  the  fact  that  a  man  who 
was  at  once  a  lawyer  and  a  Russian  official  should 
have  been  able  to  take  such  a  plain,  common-sense 
view  of  the  case! 

Before  midnight  we  were  once  more  free  men, 
driving  rapidly  in  the  clear  moonlight  to  the  next 
station,  under  the  escort  of  a  fully-armed  Circassian 
Cossack;  but  the  idea  that  we  might  have  been 
detained  for  weeks  in  that  miserable  place  long 
haunted  us  like  a  nightmare. 


41 


CHAPTER  II 

IN   THE  NORTHERN  FORESTS 

THERE  are  many  ways  of  describing  a  country 
that  one  has  visited.  The  simplest  and  most 
common  method  is  to  give  a  chronological 
account  of  the  journey;  and  this  is  perhaps  the  best 
way  when  the  journey  does  not  extend  over  more 
than  a  few  weeks.  But  it  cannot  be  conveniently 
employed  in  the  case  of  a  residence  of  several  years. 
Did  I  adopt  it,  I  should  very  soon  exhaust  the  reader's 
patience.  I  should  have  to  take  him  with  me  to  a 
secluded  village,  and  make  him  wait  for  me  till  I 
had  learned  to  speak  the  language.  Thence  he  would 
have  to  accompany  me  to  a  provincial  town,  and 
spend  months  in  a  public  office,  whilst  I  endeavoured 
to  master  the  mysteries  of  local  self-government. 
After  this  he  would  have  to  spend  nearly  two  years 
with  me  in  a  big  library,  where  I  studied  the  history 
and  literature  of  the  country.  And  so  on  and  so  on. 
Even  my  journeys  would  prove  tedious  to  him,  as 
they  have  often  been  to  myself,  for  he  would  have  to 
drive  with  me  many  a  score  of  weary  miles,  where 
even  the  most  zealous  diary-writer  would  find  little 
to  record  beyond  the  names  of  the  post-stations. 
It  will  be  well  for  me,  then,  to  avoid  the  strictly 

42 


IN   THE    NORTHERN   FORESTS 

chronological  method,  and  confine  myself  to  a  de- 
scription of  the  more  striking  objects  and  inci- 
dents that  came  under  my  notice.  The  knowledge 
which  I  derived  from  books  will  help  me  to  supply  a 
running  commentary  on  what  I  happened  to  see  and 
hear. 

Instead  of  beginning  in  the  usual  way  with  St. 
Petersburg,  I  prefer  for  many  reasons  to  leave  the 
description  of  the  capital  till  some  future  time,  and 
plunge  at  once  into  the  great  northern  forest 
region. 

If  it  were  possible  to  get  a  bird's-eye  view  of  Euro- 
pean Russia,  the  spectator  would  perceive  that  the 
country  is  composed  of  two  halves,  widely  differing 
from  each  other  in  character.  The  northern  half  is 
a  land  of  forest  and  morass,  plentifully  supplied  with 
water  in  the  form  of  rivers,  lakes,  and  marshes,  and 
broken  up  by  numerous  patches  of  cultivation.  The 
southern  half  is,  as  it  were,  the  other  side  of  the  pat- 
tern —  an  immense  expanse  of  rich  arable  land, 
broken  up  by  occasional  patches  of  sand  or  forest. 
The  imaginary  undulating  line  separating  those  two 
regions  starts  from  the  western  frontier  about  the 
50th  parallel  of  latitude,  and  runs  in  a  north-easterly 
direction  till  it  enters  the  Ural  range  at  about  56°  N.L. 

Well  do  I  remember  my  first  experience  of  travel 
in  the  northern  region,  and  the  weeks  of  voluntary 
exile  which  formed  the  goal  of  the  journey.  My 
reason  for  undertaking  the  journey  was  this:  a  few 
months  of  life  in  St.  Petersburg  had  fully  convinced 
me  that  the  Russian  language  is  one  of  those  things 

43 


RUSSIA 

which  can  only  be  acquired  by  practice,  and  that 
even  a  person  of  antediluvian  longevity  might  spend 
all  his  life  in  that  city  without  learning  to  express 
himself  fluently  in  the  vernacular  —  especially  if  he 
has  the  misfortune  of  being  able  to  speak  French  and 
German.  With  his  friends  and  associates  he  speaks 
French  or  English.  German  serves  as  a  medium  of 
communication  with  waiters  and  other  people  of  that 
class.  It  is  only  with  Isvoshtchiki — the  drivers  of  the 
little  open  droskies  which  fulfil  the  function  of  cabs  — 
that  he  is  obliged  to  use  the  native  tongue,  and  with 
them  a  very  limited  vocabulary  sufiices.  The  ordinal 
numerals  and  four  short,  easily-acquired  expressions 
—  poshol  (go  on),  na  pravo  (to  the  right),  na  lyevo  (to 
the  left),  and  stoi  (stop)  —  are  all  that  is  required. 

Whilst  I  was  considering  how  I  could  get  beyond 
the  sphere  of  West-European  languages,  a  friend 
came  to  my  assistance,  and  suggested  that  I  should 
go  to  his  estate  in  the  province  of  Novgorod,  where 
I  should  find  an  intelligent,  amiable  parish  priest, 
quite  innocent  of  any  linguistic  acquirements.  This 
proposal  I  at  once  adopted,  and  accordingly  found 
myself  one  morning  at  a  small  station  of  the  Moscow 
Railway,  endeavouring  to  explain  to  a  peasant  in 
sheep's  clothing  that  I  wished  to  be  conveyed  to 
Ivanofka,  the  village  where  my  future  teacher  lived. 
At  that  time  I  still  spoke  Russian  in  a  very  fragmen- 
tary and  confused  way  —  pretty  much  as  Spanish 
cows  are  popularly  supposed  to  speak  French.  My 
first  remark  therefore,  being  literally  interpreted, 
was  —  "Ivanofka.     Horses.     Youcan.'^"    The  point 

44 


IN   THE    NORTHERN   FORESTS 

of  interrogation  was  expressed  by  a  simultaneous 
raising  of  the  voice  and  the  eyebrows. 

"Ivanofka?"  said  the  peasant,  in  an  interrogatory 
tone  of  voice.  In  Russia,  as  in  other  countries  the 
peasantry  when  speaking  with  strangers  Hke  to  repeat 
questions,  apparently  for  the  purpose  of  gaining  time. 

"Ivanofka,"  I  repHed. 

"Now.?" 

"Now!" 

After  some  reflection  the  peasant  nodded  and  said 
something  which  I  did  not  understand,  but  which  I 
assumed  to  mean  that  he  was  open  to  consider  pro- 
posals for  transporting  me  to  my  destination. 

"Roubles.     How  many.^^" 

To  judge  by  the  knitting  of  the  brows  and  the 
scratching  of  the  head,  I  should  say  that  that  ques- 
tion gave  occasion  to  a  very  abstruse  mathemati- 
cal calculation.  Gradually  the  look  of  concentrated 
attention  gave  place  to  an  expression  such  as  chil- 
dren assume  when  they  endeavour  to  get  a  parental 
decision  reversed  by  means  of  coaxing.  Then  came 
a  stream  of  soft  words  which  were  to  me  utterly 
unintelligible. 

"How  many?"  I  repeated. 

"Ten!"  said  the  peasant,  in  a  hesitating,  apolo- 
getic way,  as  if  he  were  more  than  half-ashamed  of 
what  he  was  saying. 

"  Ten!  "  I  exclaimed,  indignantly.  "  Two, 
enough!"  and  waving  my  hand  to  indicate  that 
I  should  be  no  party  to  such  a  piece  of  extortion, 
I  re-entered  the  station.     As  I  reached  the  door  I 

45 


RUSSIA 

heard  him  say,  ''Master,  master!  Eight!"  But  I 
took  no  notice  of  the  proposal. 

I  must  not  weary  the  reader  with  a  detailed  account 
of  the  succeeding  negotiations,  which  were  conducted 
with  extreme  diplomatic  caution  on  both  sides,  as  if 
a  cession  of  territory  or  the  payment  of  a  war-con- 
tribution had  been  the  subject  of  discussion.  Three 
times  he  drove  away  and  three  times  returned.  Each 
time  he  abated  his  pretensions,  and  each  time  I 
slightly  increased  my  offer.  At  last,  when  I  began 
to  fear  that  he  had  finally  taken  his  departure  and 
had  left  me  to  my  own  devices,  he  re-entered  the 
room  and  took  up  my  baggage,  indicating  thereby 
that  he  agreed  to  my  last  offer. 

The  sum  agreed  upon  —  four  roubles  —  would 
have  been,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  more  than 
suflScient  for  the  distance,  which  was  only  about 
twenty  miles;  but  before  proceeding  far  I  discovered 
that  the  circumstances  were  by  no  means  ordinary, 
and  I  began  to  understand  the  pantomimic  gesticula- 
tion which  had  puzzled  me  during  the  negotiations. 
Heavy  rain  had  fallen  without  interruption  for  several 
days,  and  now  the  track  on  which  we  were  travelling 
could  not,  without  poetical  license,  be  described  as  a 
road.  In  some  parts  it  resembled  a  water-course,  in 
others  a  quagmire,  and  at  least  during  the  first  half 
of  the  journey  I  was  constantly  reminded  of  that 
stage  in  the  work  of  creation  when  the  water  was 
not  yet  separated  from  the  dry  land.  During  the 
few  moments  when  the  work  of  keeping  my  balance 
and  preventing  my  baggage  from  being  lost  did  not 

4G 


IN   THE    NORTHERN   FORESTS 

engross  all  my  attention,  I  speculated  on  the  possi- 
bility of  constructing  a  boat-carriage,  to  be  drawn 
by  a  swift-footed  hippopotamus,  or  some  other  ani- 
mal that  feels  itself  at  home  equally  on  land  and  in 
water.  On  the  whole,  the  project  seemed  to  me  then 
as  useful  and  as  feasible  as  Fourrier's  idea  of  making 
whales  play  the  part  of  tug-steamers. 

Fortunately  for  us,  our  two  lean,  wiry  little  horses 
did  not  object  to  being  used  as  aquatic  animals. 
They  took  the  water  bravely,  and  plunged  through 
the  mud  in  gallant  style.  The  telega  in  which  we 
were  seated  —  a  four-wheeled  skeleton  cart  —  did  not 
submit  to  the  ill-treatment  so  silently.  It  creaked 
out  its  remonstrances  and  entreaties,  and  at  the 
more  diflBcult  spots  threatened  to  go  to  pieces;  but 
its  owner  understood  its  character  and  capabili- 
ties, and  paid  no  attention  to  its  ominous  threats. 
Once,  indeed,  a  wheel  came  off,  but  it  was  soon 
fished  out  of  the  mud  and  replaced,  and  no  further 
casualty  occurred. 

The  horses  did  their  work  so  well  that,  when  about 
mid-day  we  arrived  at  a  village,  I  could  not  refuse  to 
let  them  have  some  rest  and  refreshment  —  all  the 
more  as  my  own  thoughts  had  begun  to  turn  in  that 
direction. 

The  village,  as  villages  in  that  part  of  the  country 
generally,  consisted  of  two  long  parallel  rows  of 
wooden  houses.  The  road  —  if  a  stratum  of  mud 
more  than  a  foot  in  depth  can  be  called  by  that  name 
—  formed  the  intervening  space.  All  the  houses 
turned  their  gables  to  the  road,  and  some  of  them  had 

47 


RUSSIA 

pretensions  to  architectural  decoration  in  the  form 
of  rude  perforated  wood-work.  Between  the  houses, 
and  in  a  Hne  with  them,  were  great  wooden  gates 
and  high  wooden  fences,  separating  the  court-yards 
from  the  road.  Into  one  of  these  yards,  near  the 
further  end  of  the  village,  our  horses  turned  of  their 
own  accord. 

"An  inn?"  I  said,  in  an  interrogative  tone. 

The  driver  shook  his  head  and  said  something,  in 
which  I  detected  the  word  "friend."  Evidently  there 
was  no  hostelry  for  man  and  beast  in  the  village,  and 
the  driver  was  using  a  friend's  house  for  the  purpose. 

The  yard  was  flanked  on  the  one  side  by  an  open 
shed,  containing  rude  agricultural  implements  which 
might  throw  some  light  on  the  agriculture  of  the 
primitive  Aryans,  and  on  the  other  side  by  the  dwell- 
ing-house and  stable.  Both  the  house  and  stable 
were  built  of  logs,  nearly  cylindrical  in  form,  and 
placed  in  horizontal  tiers. 

Two  of  the  strongest  of  human  motives,  hunger 
and  curiosity,  impelled  me  to  enter  the  house  at 
once.  Without  waiting  for  an  invitation,  I  went 
up  to  the  door  —  half  protected  against  the  winter 
snows  by  a  small  open  portico  —  and  unceremoni- 
ously walked  in.  The  first  apartment  was  empty, 
but  I  noticed  a  low^  door  in  the  wall  to  the  left,  and 
passing  through  this,  entered  the  principal  room. 
As  the  scene  was  new  to  me,  I  noted  the  princi- 
pal objects.  In  the  wall  before  me  were  two  small 
square  windows  looking  out  upon  the  road,  and  in 
the  corner  to  the  right,  nearer  to  the  ceiling  than 

48 


IN   THE   NORTHERN   FORESTS 

to  the  floor,  was  a  little  triangular  shelf,  on  which 
stood  a  religious  picture.  Before  the  picture  hung 
a  curious  oil  lamp.  In  the  corner  to  the  left  of  the 
door  was  a  gigantic  stove,  built  of  brick,  and  white- 
washed. From  the  top  of  the  stove  to  the  wall  on 
the  right  stretched  what  might  be  called  an  enor- 
mous shelf,  six  or  eight  feet  in  breadth.  This  is 
the  so-called  palati,  as  I  afterwards  discovered,  and 
serves  as  a  bed  for  part  of  the  family.  The  furni- 
ture consisted  of  a  long  wooden  bench  attached  to 
the  wall  on  the  right,  a  big,  heavy  deal  table,  and  a 
few  wooden  stools. 

Whilst  I  was  leisurely  surveying  these  objects  I 
heard  a  noise  on  the  top  of  the  stove,  and,  looking 
up,  perceived  a  human  face,  with  long  hair  parted 
in  the  middle,  and  a  full  yellow  beard.  I  was  con- 
siderably astonished  by  this  apparition,  for  the  air 
in  the  room  was  stifling,  and  I  had  some  diflSculty  in 
believing  that  any  created  being  —  except  perhaps  a 
salamander  or  a  negro  —  could  exist  in  such  a  posi- 
tion. I  looked  hard  to  convince  myself  that  I  was 
not  the  victim  of  a  delusion.  As  I  stared,  the  head 
nodded  slowly  and  pronounced  the  customary  form 
of  greeting. 

I  returned  the  greeting  slowly,  wondering  what 
was  to  come  next. 

"Ill,  very  ill!"  sighed  the  head. 

"I'm  not  astonished  at  that,"  I  remarked,  in  an 
"aside."  "If  I  were  where  you  are  I  should  be  very 
ill  too." 

"Hot,  very  hot.'^"  I  remarked,  interrogatively. 

BUB8IA    I  —  4  49 


RUSSIA 

"Nitchevo"  —  that  is  to  say,  "not  particularly." 
This  remark  astonished  me  all  the  more,  as  I  noticed 
at  that  very  moment  that  the  body  to  which  the 
head  belonged  was  enveloped  in  a  sheep-skin! 

After  living  some  time  in  Russia  I  was  no  longer 
surprised  by  such  incidents,  for  I  soon  discovered 
that  the  Russian  peasant  has  a  marvellous  power 
of  bearing  extreme  heat  as  well  as  extreme  cold. 
When  a  coachman  takes  his  master  or  mistress  to 
the  theatre  or  to  a  party,  he  never  thinks  of  going 
home  and  returning  at  an  appointed  time.  Hour 
after  hour  he  sits  placidly  on  the  box,  and  though 
the  cold  be  of  an  intensity  such  as  is  never  experi- 
enced in  our  temperate  climate,  he  can  sleep  as 
tranquilly  as  the  lazzarone  at  mid-day  in  Naples. 
In  that  respect  the  Russian  peasant  seems  to  be 
first-cousin  to  the  polar  bear,  but,  unlike  the  ani- 
mals of  the  arctic  regions,  he  is  not  at  all  incom- 
moded by  excessive  heat.  On  the  contrary,  he  likes 
it  when  he  can  get  it,  and  never  omits  an  oppor- 
tunity of  laying  in  a  reserve  supply  of  caloric.  He 
even  delights  in  rapid  transitions  from  one  extreme 
to  the  other,  as  is  amply  proved  by  a  curious  custom 
which  deserves  to  be  recorded. 

The  reader  must  know  that  in  the  life  of  the 
Russian  peasantry  the  weekly  vapour-bath  plays 
a  most  important  part.  It  has  even  a  certain  re- 
ligious signification,  for  no  good  orthodox  peasant 
would  dare  to  enter  a  church  after  being  soiled  by 
certain  kinds  of  pollution  without  cleansing  himself 
physically  and  morally  by  means  of  the  bath.     In 

50 


IN   THE   NORTHERN    FORESTS 

the  weekly  arrangements  it  forms  the  occupation 
for  Saturday  afternoon,  and  care  is  taken  to  avoid 
thereafter  all  pollution  until  after  the  morning  ser- 
vice on  Sunday.  Many  villages  possess  a  public  or 
communal  bath  of  the  most  primitive  construction, 
but  in  some  parts  of  the  country  —  I  am  not  sure 
how  far  the  practice  extends  —  the  peasants  take 
their  vapour-bath  in  the  household  oven  in  which 
the  bread  is  baked!  In  all  cases  the  operation  is 
pushed  to  the  extreme  limit  of  human  endurance  — 
far  beyond  the  utmost  limit  that  can  be  endured 
by  those  who  have  not  been  accustomed  to  it  from 
childhood.  For  my  own  part,  I  only  made  the  ex- 
periment once;  and  when  I  informed  my  attendant 
that  my  life  was  in  danger  from  congestion  of  the 
brain,  he  laughed  outright,  and  told  me  that  the 
operation  had  only  begun.  Most  astounding  of  all 
—  and  this  brings  me  to  the  fact  which  led  me 
into  this  digression  —  the  peasants  in  winter  often 
rush  out  of  the  bath  and  roll  themselves  in  snow! 
This  aptly  illustrates  a  common  Russian  proverb, 
which  says  that  what  is  health  to  the  Russian  is 
death  to  the  German. 

Cold  water,  as  well  as  hot  vapour,  is  sometimes 
used  as  a  means  of  puriJ5cation.  In  the  villages  the 
old  pagan  habit  of  dressing  in  absurd  disguises  at 
certain  seasons  —  as  is  done  during  the  Carnival  in 
Roman  Catholic  countries  with  the  approval,  or  at 
least  connivance,  of  the  Church  —  still  survives,  but 
it  is  regarded  as  not  altogether  sinless.  He  who  uses 
such  disguises  places  himself  to  a  certain  extent  under 

51 


RUSSIA 

the  influence  of  the  Evil  One,  thereby  putting  his 
soul  in  jeopardy ;  and  to  free  himself  from  this  danger 
he  has  to  purify  himself  in  the  following  way.  When 
the  ceremony  of  blessing  the  waters  is  performed,  by 
breaking  a  hole  in  the  ice  and  dipping  with  certain 
religious  rites  a  cross  into  the  water,  he  should  plunge 
into  the  hole  as  soon  as  possible  after  the  ceremony. 
I  remember  once  at  Yaroslaff  on  the  Volga,  two 
young  peasants  successfully  accomplished  this  feat  — 
though  the  police,  it  was  said,  had  orders  to  prevent 
it  —  and  escaped,  apparently  without  evil  conse- 
quences, though  the  Fahrenheit  thermometer  was 
below  zero.  How  far  this  curious  custom  has  really 
a  purifying  influence  is  a  question  which  must  be  left 
to  theologians;  but  even  an  ordinary  mortal  may 
justifiably  assume  that,  if  it  be  regarded  as  a  penance, 
it  must  have  a  certain  deterrent  effect.  The  man 
or  woman  who  foresees  the  necessity  of  undergoing 
this  severe  penance  will  think  twice  before  putting  on 
a  disguise.  So  at  least  it  must  have  been  in  the  good 
old  times,  but  in  these  degenerate  days  —  among  the 
Russian  peasantry  as  elsewhere  —  the  fear  of  the 
Devil,  which  was  formerly,  if  not  the  beginning,  at 
least  one  of  the  essential  elements,  of  wisdom,  has 
greatly  decreased.  Many  a  young  peasant  will  now 
thoughtlessly  disguise  himself,  and  when  the  conse- 
cration of  the  water  is  performed,  will  stand  and  look 
on  passively  like  an  ordinary  spectator!  It  would 
seem  that  the  Devil,  like  his  enemy  the  Pope,  is  des- 
tined to  lose  gradually  his  temporal  power. 

But  all  this  time  I  am  neglecting  my  new  acquaint- 

52 


IN    THE    NORTHERN    FORESTS 

ance  on  the  top  of  the  stove.  In  reahty  I  did  not 
neglect  him,  but  hstened  most  attentively  to  every 
word  of  the  long  tale  that  he  recited.  What  it  was 
all  about  I  could  only  vaguely  guess,  for  I  did  not 
understand  more  than  five  per  cent,  of  the  words  used, 
but  I  assumed  from  the  tone  and  gestures  that  he 
was  relating  to  me  all  the  incidents  and  symptoms  of 
his  illness.  And  a  very  severe  illness  it  must  have 
been,  for  it  requires  a  very  considerable  amount  of 
physical  suffering  to  make  the  patient  Russian  peas- 
ant groan.  Before  he  had  finished  his  tale  a  woman 
entered,  apparently  his  wife.  To  her  I  explained 
that  I  had  a  strong  desire  to  eat  and  drink,  and  that 
I  wished  to  know  what  she  could  give  me.  By  a 
good  deal  of  laborious  explanation  I  was  made  to 
understand  that  I  could  have  eggs,  black  bread,  and 
butter;  and  we  agreed  that  there  should  be  a  division 
of  labour:  my  hostess  should  prepare  the  Samovar 
for  boiling  water,  whilst  I  should  fry  the  eggs  to  my 
own  satisfaction. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  repast  was  ready,  and,  though 
not  very  delicate,  was  highly  acceptable.  The  tea  and 
sugar  I  had  of  course  brought  with  me;  the  eggs  were 
not  very  highly  flavoured;  and  the  black  rye-bread, 
strongly  intermixed  with  sand,  could  be  eaten  by  a 
peculiar  and  easily-acquired  method  of  mastication,  in 
which  the  upper  molars  were  never  allowed  to  touch 
those  of  the  lower  jaw.  In  this  way  the  grating  of 
the  sand  between  the  teeth  was  avoided.  The  butter 
alone  was  a  failure ;  though  strongly  recommended  by 
the  good  housewife,  it  could  not  be  put  to  any  prac- 

53 


RUSSIA 

tical  use,  for  the  simple  reason  that  it  was  impossible 
to  sit  in  the  same  room  with  it.  The  milk,  however, 
which  was  offered  to  me  in  an  earthenware  pitcher, 
was  very  palatable. 

Eggs,  black  bread,  milk,  and  tea  —  these  formed 
my  ordinary  articles  of  food  during  all  my  wanderings 
in  Northern  Russia.  Occasionally  potatoes  could  be 
got,  and  afforded  the  possibility  of  varying  the  bill  of 
fare.  The  favourite  materials  employed  in  the  native 
cookery  are  sour  cabbage,  cucumbers,  and  kvass  — 
a  kind  of  very  small  beer  made  from  black  bread. 
None  of  these  can  be  recommended  to  the  traveller 
who  is  not  already  accustomed  to  them. 

The  remainder  of  the  journey  was  accomplished  at 
a  rather  more  rapid  pace  than  the  preceding  part,  for 
the  road  was  decidedly  better,  though  it  was  traversed 
by  numerous  half-buried  roots,  which  produced  vio- 
lent jolts.  From  the  conversation  of  the  driver  I 
gathered  that  wolves,  bears,  and  elks  were  found  in 
the  forest  through  which  we  were  passing. 

The  sun  had  long  since  set  when  we  reached  our 
destination,  and  I  found  to  my  dismay  that  the 
priest's  house  was  closed  for  the  night.  To  rouse  the 
reverend  personage  from  his  slumbers,  and  endeavour 
to  explain  to  him  with  my  limited  vocabulary  the 
object  of  my  visit,  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  On  the 
other  hand,  there  was  no  inn  of  any  kind  in  the  vicin- 
ity. \Vlien  I  consulted  the  driver  what  was  to  be 
done,  he  meditated  for  a  little,  and  then  pointed  to  a 
large  house  at  some  distance  where  there  were  still 
lights.     It  turned  out  to  be  the  country-house  of  the 

54 


IN   THE   NORTHERN   FORESTS 

gentleman  who  had  advised  me  to  undertake  the 
journey,  and  here,  after  a  short  explanation,  I  was 
hospitably  received. 

It  had  been  my  intention  to  live  in  the  priest's 
house,  but  a  short  interview  with  him  on  the  following 
day  convinced  me  that  that  part  of  my  plan  could  not 
be  carried  out.  The  preliminary  objections  that  I 
should  find  but  poor  fare  in  his  humble  household, 
and  much  more  of  the  same  kind,  were  at  once  put 
aside  by  my  assurance  that,  as  an  old  traveller,  I  was 
well  accustomed  to  simple  fare,  and  could  always 
accommodate  myself  to  the  habits  of  people  among 
whom  my  lot  happened  to  be  cast.  But  there  was 
a  more  serious  diflSculty.  The  priest's  family  had, 
as  is  generally  the  case  with  priests'  families,  been 
rapidly  increasing  during  the  last  few  years,  and 
his  house  had  not  been  growing  with  equal  rapidity. 
The  natural  consequence  of  this  was  that  he  had  not 
a  room  or  a  bed  to  spare.  The  little  room  which  he 
had  formerly  kept  for  occasional  visitors  was  now 
occupied  by  his  eldest  daughter,  who  had  returned 
from  a  "school  for  the  daughters  of  the  clergy," 
where  she  had  been  for  the  last  two  years.  Under 
these  circumstances,  I  was  constrained  to  accept 
the  kind  proposal  made  to  me  by  the  representative 
of  my  absent  friend,  that  I  should  take  up  my  quar- 
ters in  one  of  the  numerous  unoccupied  rooms  in  the 
manor  house.  This  arrangement,  I  was  reminded, 
would  not  at  all  interfere  with  my  proposed  studies, 
for  the  priest  lived  close  at  hand,  and  I  might  spend 
with  him  as  much  time  as  I  liked. 

55 


RUSSIA 

And  now  let  me  introduce  the  reader  to  my 
reverend  teacher,  and  one  or  two  other  person- 
ages whose  acquaintance  I  made  during  my  volun- 
tary exile. 


56 


CHAPTER  III 

VOLUNTARY  EXILE 

THIS  village,  Ivanofka  by  name,  in  which  I  pro- 
posed to  spend  some  months,  was  rather  more 
picturesque  than  villages  in  these  northern 
forests  commonly  are.  The  peasants'  huts,  built  on 
both  sides  of  a  straight  road,  were  colourless  enough, 
and  the  big  church,  with  its  five  pear-shaped  cupolas 
rising  out  of  the  bright  green  roof  and  its  ugly  belfry 
in  the  Renaissance  style,  was  not  by  any  means  beau- 
tiful in  itself;  but  when  seen  from  a  little  distance, 
especially  in  the  soft  evening  twilight,  the  whole 
might  have  been  made  the  subject  of  a  very  pleasing 
picture.  From  the  point  which  a  landscape-painter 
would  naturally  have  chosen,  the  foreground  was 
formed  by  a  meadow,  through  which  flowed  sluggishly 
a  meandering  stream.  On  a  bit  of  rising  ground  to 
the  right,  and  half  concealed  by  an  intervening  clus- 
ter of  old  rich-coloured  pines,  stood  the  manor-house 
—  a  big,  box-shaped,  whitewashed  building,  with  a 
verandah  in  front,  overlooking  a  small  plot  that 
might  some  day  become  a  flower-garden.  To  the 
left  of  this  stood  the  village,  the  houses  grouping 
prettily  with  the  big  church,  and  a  little  further  in 
this  direction  was  an  avenue  of  graceful  birches.     On 

57 


RUSSIA 

the  extreme  left  were  fields,  bounded  by  a  dark 
border  of  fir-trees.  Could  the  spectator  have  raised 
himself  a  few  hundred  feet  from  the  ground,  he  would 
have  seen  that  there  were  fields  beyond  the  village, 
and  that  the  whole  of  this  agricultural  oasis  was 
imbedded  in  a  forest  stretching  in  all  directions  as 
far  as  the  eye  could  reach.  ^ 

The  history  of  the  place  may  be  told  in  a  few  words. 
In  former  times  the  estate,  including  the  village  and 
all  its  inhabitants,  had  belonged  to  a  monastery,  but 
when  the  church  lands  were  secularised  by  Catherine 
II,  in  1764,  it  became  the  property  of  the  State. 
Some  years  afterwards  the  Empress  granted  it,  with 
the  serfs  and  everything  else  which  it  contained,  to 
an  old  general  who  had  distinguished  himself  in  the 
Turkish  wars.     From  that  time  it  had  remained  in 

the  K family.     Some  time  between  the  years 

1820  and  1840,  the  big  church  and  the  mansion-house 
had  been  built  by  the  father  of  the  actual  possessor, 
who  loved  country  life,  and  devoted  a  large  part  of 
his  time  and  energies  to  the  management  of  his  estate. 
His  son,  on  the  contrary,  preferred  St.  Petersburg  to 
the  country,  served  in  one  of  the  public  offices,  loved 
passionately  French  plays  and  other  products  of 
urban  civilisation,  and  left  the  entire  management 
of  the  property  to  a  German  steward,  popularly 
known  as  Karl  Karl'itch,  whom  I  shall  introduce  to 
the  reader  presently. 

The  village  annals  contained  no  important  events, 
except  bad  harvests,  cattle-plagues,  and  destructive 
fires,  with  which  the  inhabitants  seem  to  have  been 

58 


VOLUNTARY  EXILE 

periodically  visited  from  time  immemorial.  If  good 
harvests  were  ever  experienced,  they  must  have  faded 
from  the  popular  recollection.  Then  there  were 
certain  ancient  traditions  which  might  have  been 
lessened  in  bulk  and  improved  in  quality  by  being 
subjected  to  searching  historical  criticism.  More 
than  once,  for  instance,  a  Leshie,  or  wood-sprite,  had 
been  seen  in  the  neighbourhood ;  and  in  several  house- 
holds the  Domovoi,  or  Brownie,  had  been  known  to 
play  strange  pranks  until  he  was  properly  propitiated. 
And  as  a  set-off  against  these  manifestations  of  evil 
powers,  there  were  well-authenticated  stories  about 
a  miracle-working  image  that  had  mysteriously  ap- 
peared on  the  branch  of  a  tree,  and  about  numerous 
miraculous  cures  that  had  been  efifected  by  means  of 
pilgrimages  to  holy  shrines. 

But  it  is  time  to  introduce  the  principal  personages 
of  this  little  community.  Of  these,  by  far  the  most 
important  — facile  princepSy  as  a  lover  of  Latinity 
would  say  —  was  Karl  Karl 'itch,  the  steward. 

First  of  all  I  ought,  perhaps,  to  explain  how  Karl 
Schmidt,  the  son  of  a  well-to-do  Bauer  in  the  Prussian 
village  of  Schonhausen,  became  Karl  Karl'itch,  the 
principal  personage  in  the  Russian  village  of  Ivanofka. 

About  twenty  years  ago,  many  of  the  Russian 
landed  proprietors  had  become  alive  to  the  necessity 
of  improving  the  primitive,  traditional  method  of 
agriculture,  and  sought  for  this  purpose  German 
stewards  for  their  estates.  Among  these  proprietors 
was  the  owner  of  Ivanofka.  Through  the  medium 
of  a  friend  in  Berlin,  he  succeeded  in  engaging  for  a 

59 


RUSSIA 

moderate  salary  a  young  man  who  had  just  finished 
his  studies  in  one  of  the  German  schools  of  agriculture 
—  the  institution  at  Hohenheim,  if  my  memory  does 
not  deceive  me.  This  young  man  had  arrived  in 
Russia  as  plain  Karl  Schmidt,  but  his  name  was  soon 
transformed  into  Karl  Karl'itch,  not  from  any  desire 
of  his  own,  but  in  accordance  with  a  curious  Russian 
custom.  In  Russia,  one  usually  calls  a  man  not  by 
his  family  name,  but  by  his  Christian  name  and  pat- 
ronymic —  the  latter  being  formed  from  the  name  of 
his  father.  Thus,  if  a  man's  name  is  Nicholas,  and 
his  father's  Christian  name  is  —  or  was  —  Ivan,  you 
address  him  as  Nikolai  Ivanovitch  (pronounced 
Ivan'itch) ;  and  if  this  man  should  happen  to  have  a 
sister  called  Mary,  you  will  address  her  —  even 
though  she  should  be  married  —  as  Marya  Ivanovna 
(pronounced  Ivanna). 

Immediately  on  his  arrival,  young  Schmidt  had  set 
himself  vigorously  to  reorganise  the  estate  and  im- 
prove the  method  of  agriculture.  Some  ploughs, 
harrows,  and  other  implements  which  had  been 
imported  at  a  former  period  were  dragged  out  of  the 
obscurity  in  which  they  had  lain  for  several  years, 
and  an  attempt  was  made  to  farm  on  scientific  prin- 
ciples. The  attempt  was  far  from  being  completely 
successful,  for  the  serfs  could  not  be  made  to  work 
like  regularly-trained  German  labourers.  In  spite  of 
all  admonitions,  threats,  and  punishments,  they  per- 
sisted in  working  slowly,  listlessly,  inaccurately,  and 
occasionally  they  broke  the  new  instruments,  from 
carelessness  or  some  more  culpable  motive.     Karl 

GO 


VOLUNTARY  EXILE 

Karl'itch  was  not  naturally  a  hard-hearted  man,  but 
he  was  very  rigid  in  his  notions  of  duty,  and  could  be 
cruelly  severe  when  his  orders  were  not  executed  with 
an  accuracy  and  punctuality  that  seemed  to  the  Rus- 
sian rustic  mind  mere  useless  pedantry.  The  serfs 
did  not  offer  him  any  open  opposition,  and  were 
always  obsequiously  respectful  in  their  demeanour 
towards  him,  but  they  invariably  frustrated  his  plans 
by  their  carelessness  and  stolid  passive  resistance. 
Thus  arose  that  silent  conflict  and  that  smouldering 
mutual  enmity  that  almost  always  result  from  the 
contact  of  Teutonic  with  Slavonian  natures.  The 
serfs  instinctively  regretted  the  good  old  times,  when 
they  lived  under  the  rough  and  ready  patriarchal  rule 
of  their  master,  assisted  by  a  native  "Burmister,"  or 
overseer,  who  was  one  of  themselves.  The  Bur- 
mister  had  not  been  always  honest  in  his  dealings  with 
them,  and  the  master  had  often,  when  in  anger, 
ordered  severe  punishments  to  be  inflicted;  but  the 
Burmister  had  not  attempted  to  make  them  change 
their  old  habits,  and  had  shut  his  eyes  to  many  little 
sins  of  omission  and  commission,  whilst  the  master 
was  always  ready  to  assist  them  in  difficulties,  and 
commonly  treated  them  in  a  kindly,  familiar  way. 
As  the  old  Russian  proverb  has  it,  "Where  anger  is, 
there  too  is  kindly  forgiveness."  Karl  Karl'itch,  on 
the  contrary,  was  the  personification  of  uncompas- 
sionate,  inflexible  law.  Blind  rage  and  compassion- 
ate kindliness  were  alike  foreign  to  his  system  of 
government.  If  he  had  any  feeling  towards  the  serfs 
it  was  one  of  chronic  contempt.     The  word  Durak 

Gl 


RUSSIA 

(blockhead)  was  constantly  on  his  lips,  and  when 
any  bit  of  work  was  well  done,  he  took  it  as  a  matter 
of  course,  and  never  thought  of  giving  a  word  of 
approval  or  encouragement. 

AVhen  it  became  evident,  in  1859,  that  the  eman- 
cipation of  the  serfs  was  at  hand,  Karl  Karl'itch 
confidently  predicted  that  the  country  would  inevi- 
tably go  to  ruin.  He  knew  by  experience  that  the 
peasants  were  lazy  and  improvident,  even  when  they 
lived  under  the  tutelage  of  a  master,  and  with  the 
fear  of  the  rod  before  their  eyes.  What  would  they 
become  when  this  guidance  and  salutary  restraint 
would  be  removed  .'^  The  prospect  raised  terrible 
forebodings  in  the  mind  of  the  worthy  steward,  who 
had  his  employer's  interests  really  at  heart;  and 
these  forebodings  were  considerably  increased  and 
intensified  when  he  learned  that  the  peasants  were 
to  receive  by  law  the  land  which  they  occupied  on 
sufferance,  and  which  comprised  about  a  half  of  the 
whole  arable  land  of  the  estate.  This  arrangement 
he  declared  to  be  a  dangerous  and  unjustifiable  infrac- 
tion of  the  sacred  rights  of  property,  which  savoured 
strongly  of  communism  and  could  have  but  one 
practical  result:  the  emancipated  peasants  would 
live  by  the  cultivation  of  their  own  land,  and  would 
not  consent  on  any  terms  to  work  for  their  former 
master.  In  the  few  months  which  immediately 
followed  the  publication  of  the  Emancipation  Edict, 
he  found  much  to  confirm  his  most  gloomy  apprehen- 
sions. The  peasants  showed  themselves  dissatisfied 
with  the  privileges  conferred  upon  them,  and  sought 

G2 


VOLUNTARY  EXILE 

to  evade  the  corresponding  duties  imposed  on  them 
by  the  new  law.  In  vain  he  endeavoured,  by  exhor- 
tations, promises,  and  threats,  to  get  the  most  neces- 
sary part  of  the  field  work  done,  and  showed  the 
peasants  the  provision  of  the  law  enjoining  them  to 
obey  and  work  as  of  old  until  some  new  arrangement 
should  be  made.  To  all  his  appeals  they  replied  that 
they  were  no  longer  obliged  to  work  for  their  former 
master;  and  he  was  at  last  forced  to  appeal  to  the 
authorities.  This  step  had  a  certain  effect,  but  the 
field  work  was  executed  that  year  even  worse  than 
usual,  and  the  harvest  suffered  in  consequence. 

Since  that  time  things  had  gradually  improved. 
The  peasants  had  discovered  that  they  could  not 
support  themselves  and  pay  their  taxes  from  the  land 
ceded  to  them,  and  had  accordingly  consented  to  till 
the  proprietor's  fields  for  a  moderate  compensation. 
"These  two  years,"  said  Karl  Karl'itch  to  me,  with 
an  air  of  honest  self-satisfaction,  "I  have  been  able, 
after  paying  all  expenses,  to  transmit  little  sums  to 
the  young  master  in  St.  Petersburg.  It  was  certainly 
not  much,  but  it  shows  that  things  are  better  than 
they  were.  Still,  it  is  hard,  uphill  work.  The  peas- 
ants have  not  been  improved  by  liberty.  They  now 
work  less  and  drink  more  than  they  did  in  the  times 
of  serfage,  and  if  you  say  a  word  to  them  they'll  go 
away,  and  not  work  for  you  at  all."  Here  Karl 
Karl'itch  indemnified  himself  for  his  recent  self-con- 
trol in  the  presence  of  his  workers  by  using  a  series 
of  the  strongest  epithets  which  the  combined  lan- 
guages  of  his   native  and  of  his  adopted  country 

63 


RUSSIA 

could  supply.  "But  laziness  and  drunkenness  are 
not  their  only  faults.  They  let  their  cattle  wander 
into  our  fields,  and  never  lose  an  opportunity  of 
stealing  firewood  from  the  forest." 

"But  you  have  now  for  such  matters  the  rural 
justices  of  the  peace,"  I  ventured  to  suggest. 

"The  justices  of  the  peace!"  .  .  .  Here 
Karl  Karl'itch  used  an  inelegant  expression,  which 
showed  plainly  that  he  was  no  unqualified  admirer 
of  the  new  judicial  institutions.  "What  is  the  use 
of  applying  to  the  justices.''  The  nearest  one  lives 
six  miles  off,  and  when  I  go  to  him  he  evidently 
tries  to  make  me  lose  as  much  time  as  possible.  I 
am  sure  to  lose  nearly  a  whole  day,  and  at  the  end  of 
it  I  may  find  that  I  have  got  nothing  for  my  pains. 
These  justices  always  try  to  find  some  excuse  for  the 
peasant,  and  when  they  do  condemn,  by  way  of 
exception,  the  affair  does  not  end  there.  There  are 
constantly  a  number  of  pettifogging  practitioners 
prowling  about  —  for  the  most  part  rascally  scribes 
who  have  been  dismissed  from  the  public  offices  for 
pilfering  and  extorting  too  openly  —  and  they  are 
always  ready  to  whisper  to  the  peasant  that  he  should 
appeal.  The  peasant  knows  that  the  decision  is 
just,  but  he  is  easily  persuaded  that  by  appealing  to 
the  Monthly  Sessions  he  gets  another  draw  in  the 
lottery,  and  may  perhaps  draw  a  prize.  He  lets  the 
rascally  scribe,  therefore,  draw  up  an  appeal  for  him, 
and  I  receive  an  invitation  to  attend  the  Session  of 
Justices  in  the  district  town  on  a  certain  day.  It  is 
a  good  five-and-thirty  miles  to  the  district  town,  as 

64 


o 
o 

< 


VOLUNTARY  EXILE 

you  know,  but  I  get  up  early,  and  arrive  at  eleven 
o'clock,  the  hour  stated  in  the  official  notice.  A 
crowd  of  peasants  are  hanging  about  the  door  of  the 
court,  but  the  only  official  present  is  the  porter.  I 
inquire  of  him  when  my  case  is  likely  to  come  on, 
and  receive  the  laconic  answer,  'How  should  I  know?* 
After  half  an  hour  the  secretary  arrives.  I  repeat 
my  question,  and  receive  the  same  answer.  Another 
half-hour  passes,  and  one  of  the  justices  drives  up  in 
his  tarantass.  Perhaps  he  is  a  glib-tongued  gentle- 
man, and  assures  me  that  the  proceedings  will  com- 
mence at  once:  *  Sei  tchas !  sei  tchas ! '  Don't  believe 
what  the  priest  or  the  dictionary  tells  you  about  the 
meaning  of  that  expression.  The  dictionary  will  tell 
you  that  it  means  'immediately,'  but  that's  all  non- 
sense. In  the  mouth  of  a  Russian  it  means  'in  an 
hour,'  'next  week,'  'in  a  year  or  two,'  'never,'  — 
most  commonly  'never.'  Like  many  other  words  in 
Russian,  'sei  tchas'  can  be  understood  only  after  long 
experience.  A  second  justice  drives  up,  and  then  a 
third.  No  more  are  required  by  law,  but  these 
gentlemen  must  first  smoke  several  cigarettes  and 
discuss  all  the  local  news  before  they  begin  work. 
At  last  they  take  their  seats  on  the  bench  —  a  slightly 
elevated  platform  at  one  end  of  the  room  —  behind 
a  table  covered  with  green  baize,  and  the  proceedings 
commence.  My  case  is  sure  to  be  pretty  far  down 
on  the  list  —  the  secretary  takes,  I  believe,  a  mali- 
cious pleasure  in  watching  my  impatience  —  and 
before  it  is  called  the  justices  have  to  retire  at  least 
once  for  refreshments   and   cigarettes.     I   have   to 

BCSSIA  I  —  6  65 


RUSSIA 

amuse  myself  by  listening  to  the  other  cases,  and 
some  of  them,  I  can  assure  you,  are  amusing 
enough.  The  walls  of  that  room  must  be  by  this 
time  pretty  well  saturated  with  perjury,  and  many 
of  the  witnesses  catch  at  once  the  infection.  Per- 
haps I  may  tell  you  some  other  time  a  few  of  the 
amusing  incidents  that  I  have  seen  there.  At  last 
my  case  is  called.  It  is  as  clear  as  daylight,  but 
the  rascally  pettifogger  is  there  with  a  long  pre- 
pared speech.  He  holds  in  his  hand  a  small  volume 
of  the  codified  law,  and  quotes  paragraphs  which 
no  amount  of  human  ingenuity  can  make  to  bear 
upon  the  subject.  Perhaps  the  previous  decision  is 
confirmed;  perhaps  it  is  reversed;  in  either  case,  I 
have  lost  a  second  day  and  exhausted  more  patience 
than  I  can  conveniently  spare.  And  something  even 
worse  may  happen,  as  I  know  by  experience.  Once 
during  a  case  of  mine  there  was  some  little  infor- 
mality—  some  one  inadvertently  opened  the  door 
of  the  consulting-room  when  the  decision  was  being 
written,  or  some  other  little  incident  of  the  sort 
occurred,  and  the  rascally  pettifogger  complained  to 
the  Supreme  Court  of  Revision,  which  is  a  part  of 
the  Senate.  The  case  was  all  about  a  few  roubles, 
but  it  was  discussed  in  St.  Petersburg,  and  after- 
wards tried  over  again  by  another  court  of  justices. 
Now  I  have  paid  my  lehrgeld,  and  go  no  more  to 
law.'* 

"Then  you  must  expose  yourself  to  all  kinds  of 
extortion?" 

"Not  so  much  as  you  might  imagine.    I  have  my 

66 


VOLUNTARY  EXILE 

own  way  of  dispensing  justice.  When  I  catch  a  peas- 
ant's horse  or  cow  in  our  fields,  I  lock  it  up  and  make 
the  owner  pay  a  ransom." 

"Is  it  not  rather  dangerous,"  I  inquired,  "to  take 
the  law  thus  into  your  own  hands. '^  I  have  heard 
that  the  Russian  justices  are  extremely  severe  against 
any  one  who  has  recourse  to  what  your  German 
jurists  call  Selbsthiilfe.'" 

"That  they  are!  So  long  as  you  are  in  Russia,  you 
had  much  better  let  yourself  be  quietly  robbed  than 
use  any  violence  against  the  robber.  It  is  less  trouble 
and  it  is  cheaper  in  the  long  run.  If  you  do  not,  you 
may  unexpectedly  find  yourself  some  fine  morning  in 
prison!  You  must  know  that  many  of  the  young 
justices  belong  to  the  new  school  of  morals." 

"What  is  that.'^  I  have  not  heard  of  any  new  dis- 
coveries lately  in  the  sphere  of  speculative  ethics." 

"Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  not  one  of  the 
initiated,  and  I  can  only  tell  you  what  I  hear.  So 
far  as  I  have  noticed,  the  representatives  of  the  new 
doctrine  talk  chiefly  about  Gumannost'  and  Tche- 
lovetcheskoe  dostoinstvo.  You  know  what  these 
words  mean?" 

"  Humanity,  or  rather  humanitarianism  and  human 
dignity,"  I  replied,  not  sorry  to  give  a  proof  that  I 
was  advancing  in  my  studies. 

"There,  again,  you  allow  your  dictionary  and  your 
priest  to  mislead  you.  These  terms,  when  used  by  a 
Russian,  cover  much  more  than  we  understand  by 
them,  and  those  who  use  them  most  frequently  have 
generally  a  special  tenderness  for  all  kinds  of  male- 

67 


RUSSIA 

factors.  In  the  Dark  Ages,  which  are  only  now  com- 
ing to  a  close,  malefactors  were  popularly  believed 
to  be  bad,  dangerous  people;  but  it  has  been  lately 
discovered  that  this  is  a  delusion.  A  young  proprie- 
tor who  lives  not  far  off  assures  me  that  they  are 
the  true  Protestants,  and  the  most  powerful  social 
reformers!  They  protest  practically  against  those 
imperfections  of  social  organisation  of  which  they 
are  the  involuntary  victims.  The  feeble,  character- 
less man  quietly  submits  to  his  chains;  the  bold, 
generous,  strong  man  breaks  his  fetters,  and  helps 
others  to  do  the  same.  A  very  ingenious  defence  of 
all  kinds  of  rascality,  isn't  it?" 

"Well,  it  is  a  theory  that  might  certainly  be  carried 
too  far,  and  might  easily  lead  to  very  inconvenient 
conclusions;  but  I  am  not  sure  that,  theoretically 
speaking,  it  does  not  contain  a  certain  element  of 
truth.  It  ought  at  least  to  foster  that  charity  which 
we  are  enjoined  to  practise  towards  all  men.  But 
perhaps  *all  men'  does  not  include  publicans  and 
sinners.'^" 

On  hearing  these  words,  Karl  Karl'itch  turned  to 
me,  and  every  feature  of  his  honest  German  face 
expressed  the  most  undisguised  astonishment.  "Are 
you,  too,  a  Nihilist.'^"  he  inquired,  as  soon  as  he  had 
partially  recovered  his  breath. 

"  I  really  don't  know  what  a  Nihilist  is,  but  I  may 
assure  you  that  I  am  not  an  'ist'  of  any  kind.  What 
is  a  Nihilist?" 

*'If  you  live  long  in  Russia  you'll  learn  that  with- 
out my  telling  you.     As  I  was  saying,  I  am  not  at 

68 


VOLUNTARY  EXILE 

all  afraid  of  the  peasants  citing  me  before  the  justice. 
They  know  better.  If  they  gave  me  too  much  trouble 
I  could  starve  their  cattle.'* 

"Yes,  when  you  catch  them  in  your  fields,"  I  re- 
marked, taking  no  notice  of  the  abrupt  turn  which 
he  had  given  to  the  conversation. 

"I  can  do  it  without  that.  You  must  know  that, 
by  the  Emancipation  Law,  the  peasants  received  ara- 
ble land,  but  they  received  no  pasturage.  I  have  the 
whip-hand  of  them  there!" 

The  remarks  of  Karl  Karl' itch  on  men  and  things 
were  to  me  always  interesting,  for  he  was  a  shrewd 
observer,  and  displayed  occasionally  a  pleasant,  dry 
humour.  But  I  very  soon  discovered  that  his  opin- 
ions were  not  to  be  accepted  without  reserve.  His 
strong,  inflexible  Teutonic  nature  often  prevented 
him  from  judging  impartially.  He  had  no  sympathy 
with  the  men  and  the  institutions  around  him,  and 
consequently  he  was  unable  to  see  things  from  the 
inside.  The  specks  and  blemishes  on  the  surface  he 
perceived  clearly  enough,  but  he  had  no  knowledge 
of  the  secret,  deep-rooted  causes  by  which  these 
specks  and  blemishes  were  produced.  The  simple 
fact  that  a  man  was  a  Russian  satisfactorily  ac- 
counted, in  his  opinion,  for  any  kind  of  moral  deform- 
ity ;  and  his  knowledge  turned  out  to  be  by  no  means 
so  extensive  as  I  had  at  first  supposed.  Though  he 
had  been  about  fifteen  years  in  the  country,  he  knew 
very  little  about  the  life  of  the  peasants  beyond  that 
small  part  of  it  which  concerned  directly  his  own 
interests  and  those  of  his  employer.     Of  the  com- 

69 


RUSSIA 

munal  organisation,  of  the  domestic  life,  religious 
beliefs,  and  ceremonial  practices  of  the  peasantry, 
of  the  occupations  of  those  who  annually  left  the  vil- 
lage in  search  of  labour  —  of  all  these  and  cognate 
subjects  he  knew  little,  and  the  little  he  happened 
to  know  was  in  great  part  false.  In  order  to  gain 
a  knowledge  of  these  matters  it  would  be  better,  I 
perceived,  to  consult  the  priest,  or,  better  still,  the 
peasants  themselves.  But  to  do  this  it  would  be 
necessary  to  understand  easily  and  speak  fluently 
the  colloquial  language,  and  I  was  still  very  far 
from  having  acquired  the  requisite  proficiency. 

Even  for  one  who  possesses  a  natural  facility  for 
acquiring  foreign  tongues,  the  learning  of  Russian  is 
by  no  means  an  easy  task.  Though  Russian  is  essen- 
tially an  Aryan  language  like  our  own,  and  contains 
only  a  slight  intermixture  of  Tartar  words  —  such  as, 
bashlyk  (a  hood),  kalpak  (a  night-cap),  arbuz  (a  water- 
melon), etc.  —  it  contains  certain  sounds  unknown  to 
West-European  ears,  and  difficult  for  West-European 
tongues,  and  its  roots,  though  in  great  part  derived 
from  the  same  original  stock  as  those  of  the  Graeco- 
Latin  and  Teutonic  languages,  are  generally  not  at  all 
easily  recognised.  As  an  illustration  of  this,  take  the 
Russian  word  otets.  Strange  as  it  may  at  first  sight 
appear,  this  word  is  merely  another  form  of  our  word 
father,  of  the  German  rater,  and  of  the  French  pere. 
The  syllable  ets  is  the  ordinary  Russian  termination 
denoting  the  agent,  corresponding  to  the  English 
and  German  ending  er,  as  we  see  in  such  words  as 
—  kwp-ets  (a  buyer),  plov-ets  (a  swimmer),  and  many 

70 


VOLUNTARY  EXILE 

others.  The  root  ot  is  a  mutilated  form  of  vot,  as  we 
see  in  the  word  otchina  (a  paternal  inheritance), 
which  is  frequently  written  votchina.  Now  vot  is 
evidently  the  same  root  as  the  German  vat  and  the 
English  Jath.  Quod  erat  demonstrandum.  All  this  is 
simple  enough,  and  goes  to  prove  the  fundamental 
identity,  or  rather  the  community  of  origin,  of  the 
Slavonian  and  Teutonic  languages;  but  it  will  be 
readily  understood  that  etymological  analogies  so 
carefully  disguised  are  of  little  practical  use  in  help- 
ing us  to  acquire  a  foreign  tongue.  Besides  this,  the 
grammatical  forms  and  constructions  in  Russian  are 
very  peculiar,  and  present  a  great  many  strange 
irregularities.  As  an  illustration  of  this  we  may  take 
the  future  tense.  The  Russian  verb  has  commonly 
a  simple  and  a  frequentative  future.  The  latter  is 
always  regularly  formed  by  means  of  an  auxiliary 
with  the  infinitive,  as  in  English,  but  the  former  is 
constructed  in  a  variety  of  ways,  for  which  no  rule 
can  be  given,  so  that  the  simple  future  of  each  indi- 
vidual verb  must  be  learned  by  a  pure  effort  of  mem- 
ory. .  In  many  verbs  it  is  formed  by  prefixing  a 
preposition,  but  it  is  impossible  to  determine  by  rule 
which  preposition  should  be  used.  Thus  idu  (I  go) 
becomes  poidu,  pishu  (I  write)  becomes  napishu,  pyu 
(I  drink)  becomes  vuipyu,  and  so  on. 

Closely  akin  to  the  difficulties  of  pronunciation  is 
the  difficulty  of  accentuating  the  proper  syllable.  In 
this  respect,  Russian  is  like  Greek;  you  can  never 
tell  a  priori  on  what  syllable  the  accent  falls.  But  it 
is  more  puzzhng  than  Greek,  for  two  reasons:  firstly, 

71 


RUSSIA 

it  IS  not  customary  to  print  Russian  with  accents; 
and  secondly,  no  one  has  yet  been  able  to  lay  down 
precise  rules  for  the  transposition  of  the  accent  in  the 
various  inflections  of  the  same  word.  Of  this  latter 
peculiarity,  let  one  illustration  suffice.  The  word 
rukd  (hand)  has  the  accent  on  the  last  syllable,  but 
in  the  accusative  (ruku)  the  accent  goes  back  to  the 
penultimate.  It  must  not,  however,  be  assumed  that 
in  all  words  of  this  type  a  similar  transposition  takes 
place.  The  word  bedd  (misfortune),  for  instance, 
as  well  as  very  many  others,  always  retains  the 
accent  on  the  last  syllable. 

These  and  many  similar  difficulties,  which  need 
not  be  here  enumerated,  can  be  mastered  only  by 
a  long  familiarity  with  the  language.  Serious  as 
they  are,  they  need  not  frighten  any  one  who  is  in 
the  habit  of  learning  foreign  tongues.  The  ear  and 
the  tongue  gradually  became  familiar  with  the  pecu- 
liarities of  inflection  and  accentuation,  and  practice 
fulfils  the  same  function  as  abstract  rules.  The  for- 
eigner, it  is  true,  however  fluently  he  may  talk,  will 
never  be  able  to  pass  for  a  Russian.  If  he  speaks 
for  any  length  of  time  he  will  be  sure  to  betray  him- 
self. But  there  is  here  nothing  peculiar.  The  same 
remark  may  be  made  regarding  the  English-speak- 
ing Russian.  I  have  conversed  with  scores  of  Rus- 
sians who  spoke  English  admirably,  but  I  have  never 
met  any  who  spoke  it  precisely  like  Englishmen, 
except  those  who  had  learned  it  in  their  infancy. 

It  is  commonly  supposed  that  Russians  have  been 
endowed  by  Nature  with  a  peculiar  linguistic  talent. 

7^ 


VOLUNTARY    EXILE 

Their  own  language,  it  is  said,  is  so  difficult,  that 
they  have  no  difficulty  in  acquiring  others.  This 
common  belief  requires,  as  it  seems  to  me,  some 
explanation.  That  educated  Russians  are  better  lin- 
guists than  the  educated  classes  of  Western  Europe, 
there  can  be  no  possible  doubt,  for  they  always  speak 
French,  and  very  often  English  and  German  also. 
The  question,  however,  is  whether  this  is  the  result 
of  a  psychological  peculiarity,  or  of  other  causes. 
Now,  without  venturing  to  deny  the  existence  of 
a  psychological  peculiarity,  I  should  say  that  the 
other  causes  have  at  least  exercised  a  powerful  influ- 
ence. Any  Russian  who  wishes  to  be  regarded  as 
civilise  must  possess  at  least  one  foreign  language; 
and,  as  a  consequence  of  this,  the  children  of  the 
upper  classes  are  always  taught  at  least  French  in 
their  infancy.  Many  households  comprise  a  Ger- 
man nurse,  a  French  tutor,  and  an  English  gov- 
erness; and  the  children  thus  become  accustomed 
from  their  earliest  years  to  the  use  of  these  three 
languages.  Besides  this,  the  Russian  language  is 
phonetically  very  rich,  and  contains  nearly  all  the 
sounds  which  are  to  be  found  in  West-European 
languages.  But  there  are  some  delicate  sounds 
which  it  does  not  contain,  and  these  the  Russian 
rarely  acquires  correctly.  As  an  instance  of  these, 
I  may  cite  the  short  vowel  sound  in  the  word  but, 
and  the  long  vowel  sound  in  the  word  all.  Into 
such  words  even  those  Russians  who  speak  our  lan- 
guage with  perfect  correctness  almost  always  intro- 
duce a  modified  sound  of  o,  which  falls  unpleasantly 

73 


RUSSIA 

on  the  fastidious  English  ear.  As  an  instance  of 
grammatical  difficulties,  I  may  mention  that  few 
Russians  master  the  delicate  distinction  between 
was  and  has  been. 

Perhaps  on  the  whole  it  would  be  well  to  apply 
here  the  Darwinian  theory,  and  suppose  that  the 
Russian  noblesse,  having  been  obliged  for  several 
generations  to  acquire  foreign  languages,  have  grad- 
ually developed  a  hereditary  polyglot  talent. 

Several  circumstances  concurred  to  assist  me  in 
my  efforts,  during  my  voluntary  exile,  to  acquire  at 
least  such  a  knowledge  of  the  language  as  would 
enable  me  to  converse  freely  with  the  peasantry. 
In   the   first    place,   my   reverend   teacher   was   an 
agreeable,  kindly,  talkative  man,  who  took  a  great 
delight  in  telling  interminable  stories,  quite  indepen- 
dently of  any  satisfaction  which  he  might  derive 
from   the  consciousness  of   their   being   understood 
and  appreciated.     Even  when  walking  alone  he  was 
always   muttering   something    to    an    imagined   lis- 
tener.    A  stranger  meeting  him  on  such  occasions 
might  have  supposed  that  he  was  holding  converse 
with  unseen  spirits,  though  his  broad  muscular  form 
and  rubicund  face  militated  strongly  against  such 
a  supposition;  but  no  man,  woman,  or  child  living 
within  a  radius  of  ten  miles  would  ever  have  fallen 
into  this  mistake.     Every  one  in  the  neighbourhood 
knew  that  "Batushka" —  (papa)   as  he  was  famil- 
iarly called  —  was  too  prosaical,  practical  a  man  to 
see  things  ethereal,  that  he  was  an  irrepressible  talker, 
and  that  when  he  could  not  conveniently  find  an 

74 


VOLUNTARY    EXILE 

audience  he  created  one  by  his  own  imagination. 
This  pecuharity  of  his  rendered  me  good  service. 
Though  for  some  time  I  understood  very  httle  of 
what  he  said,  and  very  often  misplaced  the  positive 
and  negative  monosyllables  which  I  hazarded  occa- 
sionally by  way  of  encouragement,  he  talked  vigor- 
ously all  the  same.  Like  all  garrulous  people,  he 
was  constantly  repeating  himself;  but  to  this  I  did 
not  object,  for  the  custom  —  however  objectionable 
in  ordinary  society  —  was  for  me  highly  beneficial, 
and  when  I  had  already  heard  a  story  once  or  twice 
before,  it  was  much  easier  for  me  to  assume  at  the 
proper  moment  the  requisite  expression. 

Another  fortunate  circumstance  was  that  in  Ivan- 
ofka  there  were  no  distractions,  so  that  the  whole  of 
the  day  and  a  great  part  of  the  night  could  be  devoted 
to  study.  My  chief  amusement  was  an  occasional 
walk  in  the  fields  with  Karl  Karl'itch;  and  even  this 
mild  form  of  dissipation  could  not  always  be  obtained, 
for  as  soon  as  rain  had  fallen  it  was  difficult  to  go 
beyond  the  verandah  —  the  mud  precluding  the  pos- 
sibility of  a  constitutional.  The  nearest  approach 
to  excitement  was  mushroom-gathering;  and  in  this 
occupation  my  inability  to  distinguish  the  edible 
from  the  poisonous  species  made  my  efforts  un- 
acceptable. We  lived  so  "far  from  the  madding 
crowd"  that  its  din  scarcely  reached  our  ears.  A 
week  or  ten  days  might  pass  without  our  receiving 
any  intelligence  from  the  outer  world.  The  nearest 
post-office  was  at  the  railway-station,  and  with  that 
distant  point  we  had  no  regular  system  of  communi- 

75 


RUSSIA 

cation.  Letters  and  newspapers  remained  there  till 
called  for,  and  were  brought  to  us  intermittently 
when  some  one  of  our  neighbours  happened  to  pass 
that  way.  Current  history  was  thus  administered 
to  us  in  big  doses. 

One  very  big  dose  I  remember  well.  For  a  much 
longer  time  than  usual  no  volunteer  letter-carrier 
had  appeared,  and  the  delay  was  more  than  usually 
tantalising,  because  it  was  known  that  w^ar  had 
broken  out  between  France  and  Germany.  At  last 
a  big  bundle  of  newspapers  was  brought  to  me. 
Impatient  to  learn  whether  any  great  battle  had 
been  fought,  I  began  by  examining  the  latest  num- 
ber of  the  paper,  and  stumbled  at  once  on  an 
article  headed,  "Latest  Intelligence:  the  Emperor 
at  Wilhelmshohe !  !  !"  The  large  type  in  which  the 
heading  was  printed  and  the  three  marks  of  excla- 
mation showed  plainly  that  the  article  was  very 
important.  I  began  to  read  with  avidity,  but  was 
utterly  mystified.  What  emperor  was  this.'*  Prob- 
ably the  Tsar  or  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  for  there 
was  no  German  Emperor  in  those  days.  But  no! 
It  was  evidently  the  Emperor  of  the  French.  And 
how  did  Napoleon  get  to  Wihelmshohe?  The  French 
must  have  broken  through  the  Rhine  defences  and 
pushed  far  into  Germany.  But  no!  As  I  read 
further,  I  found  this  theory  equally  untenable.  It 
turned  out  that  the  Emperor  was  surrounded  by 
Germans,  and  —  a  prisoner!  In  order  to  solve  the 
mystery,  I  had  to  go  back  to  the  preceding  num- 
bers of   the   paper,   and   learned,  at   a   sitting,  all 

76 


VOLUNTARY    EXILE 

about  the  successive  German  victories,  the  affair  of 
Sedan,  and  the  other  great  events  of  that  momen- 
tous time.  The  impression  produced  can  scarcely 
be  reahsed  by  those  who  have  always  imbibed  cur- 
rent history  in  the  homoeopathic  doses  administered 
by  the  successive  editions  of  the  daily  papers. 

By  the  useful  loquacity  of  my  teacher  and  the 
possibility  of  devoting  all  my  time  to  my  linguistic 
studies,  I  made  such  rapid  progress  in  the  acquisi- 
tion of  the  language,  that  I  was  able  after  a  few 
weeks  to  understand  much  of  what  was  said  to  me, 
and  to  express  myself  in  a  vague,  roundabout  way. 
In  the  latter  operation  I  was  much  assisted  by  a 
peculiar  faculty  of  divination  which  the  Russians 
possess  in  a  high  degree.  If  a  foreigner  succeeds  in 
expressing  about  one-fourth  of  an  idea,  the  Russian 
peasant  can  generally  fill  up  the  remaining  three- 
fourths  from  his  own  intuition. 

As  my  powers  of  comprehension  increased,  my 
long  conversations  with  the  priest  became  more  and 
more  interesting.  At  first  his  remarks  and  stories 
had  for  me  simply  a  philological  interest,  but  grad- 
ually I  perceived  that  his  talk  contained  a  great 
deal  of  solid,  interesting  information  regarding  him- 
self and  the  class  to  which  he  belonged  —  informa- 
tion of  a  kind  not  commonly  found  in  grammatical 
exercises.  Some  of  this  I  now  propose  to  communi- 
cate to  the  reader. 


77 


CHAPTER  IV 

TEE   VILLAGE  PRIEST 

IN  formal  introductions  it  is  customary  to  pro- 
nounce in  a  more  or  less  inaudible  voice  the 
names  of  the  two  persons  introduced.  Cir- 
cumstances compel  me  in  the  present  case  to  depart 
from  received  custom.  The  truth  is,  I  do  not  know 
the  names  of  the  two  people  whom  I  wish  to  intro- 
duce to  each  other!  The  reader  who  knows  his 
own  name  will  readily  pardon  one-half  of  my  igno- 
rance, but  he  may  naturally  expect  that  I  should 
know  the  name  of  a  man  with  whom  I  profess  to 
be  acquainted,  and  with  whom  I  held  long  conversa- 
tions during  a  period  of  several  months.  Strange 
as  it  may  seem,  I  do  not.  During  all  the  time  of 
my  sojourn  in  Ivanofka  I  never  heard  him  addressed 
or  spoken  of  otherwise  than  as  "Batushka."  Now 
"Batushka"  is  not  a  name  at  all.  It  is  simply 
the  diminutive  form  of  an  obsolete  word  meaning 
*' father,"  and  is  usually  applied  to  all  village  priests. 
The  ushka  is  a  common  diminutive  termination  and 
the  root  Bat  is  evidently  the  same  as  that  which 
appears  in  the  Latin  pater. 

Though  I  do  not  happen  to  know  what  Batushka's 
family  name  was,  I  can  communicate  two  curious 

78 


THE    VILLAGE    PRIEST 

facts  concerning  it:  he  had  not  possessed  it  in  his 
childhood,  and  it  was  not  the  same  as  his  father's. 

The  reader  whose  intuitive  powers  have  been 
preternaturally  sharpened  by  a  long  course  of  sensa- 
tion novels  will  probably  leap  to  the  conclusion  that 
Batushka  was  a  mysterious  individual,  very  different 
from  what  he  seemed  —  either  the  illegitimate  son 
of  some  great  personage,  or  a  man  of  high  birth  who 
had  committed  some  great  sin,  and  who  now  sought 
oblivion  and  expiation  in  the  humble  duties  of  a 
parish  priest.  Let  me  dispel  at  once  all  delusions 
of  this  kind.  Batushka  was  actually  as  well  as 
legally  the  legitimate  son  of  an  ordinary  priest, 
who  was  still  living  about  twenty  miles  off,  and  for 
many  generations  all  his  paternal  and  maternal 
ancestors,  male  and  female,  had  belonged  to  the 
priestly  caste.  He  was  thus  a  Levite  of  the  purest 
water,  and  thoroughly  Levitical  in  his  character. 
Though  he  knew  by  experience  something  about  the 
weakness  of  the  flesh,  he  had  never  committed  any 
sins  of  the  heroic  kind,  and  had  no  reason  to  conceal 
his  origin.  The  curious  facts  above  stated  were 
simply  the  result  of  a  peculiar  custom  which  exists 
among  the  Russian  clergy.  According  to  this 
custom,  when  a  boy  enters  the  seminary  he  receives 
from  the  Bishop  a  new  family  name.  The  name 
may  be  Bogoslafski,  from  a  word  signifying  "The- 
ology," or  Bogolubof,  "the  love  of  God,"  or  some 
similar  term ;  or  it  may  be  derived  from  the  name  of 
the  boy's  native  village,  or  from  any  other  word 
which  the  Bishop  thinks  fit  to  choose.     I  know  of 

79 


RUSSIA 

one  instance  where  a  Bishop  chose  two  French  words 
for  the  purpose.  He  had  intended  to  call  the  boy 
Velikoselski,  after  his  native  place,  Velikoe  Selo, 
which  means  "big  village;"  but  finding  that  there 
was  already  a  Velikoselski  in  the  seminary,  and 
being  in  a  facetious  frame  of  mind,  he  called  the  new 
comer  Grandvillageski  —  a  word  that  may  perhaps 
sorely  puzzle  some  philologist  of  the  future. 

My  reverend  teacher  was  a  tall  muscular  man  of 
about  forty  years  of  age,  with  a  full  dark-brown 
beard,  and  long  lank  hair  falling  over  his  shoulders. 
The  visible  parts  of  his  dress  consisted  of  three 
articles  —  a  dingy-brown  robe  of  coarse  material 
buttoned  closely  at  the  neck,  and  descending  to 
the  ground,  a  wideawake  hat,  and  a  pair  of  large 
heavy  boots.  As  to  the  esoteric  parts  of  his  attire, 
I  refrained  from  making  investigations.  His  life 
had  been  an  uneventful  one.  At  an  early  age  he 
had  been  sent  to  the  seminary  in  the  chief  town  of 
the  province,  and  had  made  for  himself  the  reputa- 
tion of  a  good  average  scholar.  "The  seminary  of 
that  time,"  he  used  to  say  to  me,  referring  to  that 
part  of  his  life,  "was  not  what  it  is  now.  Nowadays 
the  teachers  talk  about  humanitarianism,  and  the 
boys  would  think  that  a  crime  had  been  committed 
against  human  dignity  if  one  of  them  happened  to 
be  flogged.  But  they  don't  consider  that  human 
dignity  is  at  all  affected  by  their  getting  drunk,  and 
going  to  —  to  —  to  places  that  I  never  went  to. 
I  was  flogged  often  enough,  and  I  don't  think  that  I 
am  a  worse  man  on  that  account;  and  though  I 

80 


THE    VILLAGE    PRIEST 

never  heard  then  anything  about  pedagogical  science 
that  they  talk  so  much  about  now,  I'll  read  a  bit 
of  Latin  yet  with  the  best  of  them." 

"When  my  studies  were  finished,"  said  Batushka, 
continuing  the  simple  story  of  his  life,  "the  Bishop 
found  a  wife  for  me,  and  I  succeeded  her  father, 
who  was  then  an  old  man.  In  that  way  I  became 
priest  of  Ivanofka,  and  have  remained  here  ever 
since.  It  is  a  hard  life,  for  the  parish  is  big,  and  my 
bit  of  land  is  not  very  fertile,  but,  praise  be  to  God ! 
I  am  healthy  and  strong,  and  get  on  well  enough." 

"You  said  that  the  Bishop  found  a  wife  for  you," 
I  remarked.  "I  suppose  therefore  that  he  was  a 
great  friend  of  yours." 

"Not  at  all.  The  Bishop  does  the  same  for  all 
the  seminarists  who  wish  to  be  ordained:  it  is  an 
important  part  of  his  pastoral  duties." 

"Indeed!"  I  exclaimed  in  astonishment.  "Surely 
that  is  carrying  the  system  of  paternal  government 
a  little  too  far.  Why  should  his  Reverence  meddle 
with  things  that  don't  concern  him?" 

"But  these  matters  do  concern  him.  He  is  the 
natural  protector  of  widows  and  orphans,  especially 
among  the  clergy  of  his  own  diocese.  When  a  par- 
ish priest  dies,  what  is  to  become  of  his  wife  and 
daughters?" 

Not  perceiving  clearly  the  exact  bearing  of  these 
last  remarks,  I  ventured  to  suggest  that  priests 
ought  to  economise  in  view  of  future  contingencies. 

"It  is  easy  to  speak,"  replied  Batushka:  "'A 
story  is  soon  told,'  as  the  old  proverb  has  it,  'but  a 

BU88U    I  —  6  81 


RUSSIA 

thing  is  not  soon  done.'  How  are  we  to  economise? 
Even  without  saving  we  have  the  greatest  diflBculty 
to  make  both  ends  meet." 

"Then  the  widow  and  daughters  might  work  and 
gain  a  hvelihood." 

*'What,  pray,  could  they  work  at?"  asked  Ba- 
tushka,  and  paused  for  a  reply.  Seeing  that  I  had 
none  to  offer  him,  he  continued,  "Even  the  house 
and  land  do  not  belong  to  them,  but  to  the  new 
priest." 

"If  that  position  occurred  in  a  novel,"  I  said, 
"I  could  foretell  what  would  happen.  The  author 
would  make  the  new  priest  fall  in  love  with  and 
marry  one  of  the  daughters,  and  then  the  whole 
family,  including  the  mother-in-law,  would  live  hap- 
pily ever  afterwards." 

"That  is  exactly  how  the  Bishop  arranges  the 
matter.  What  the  novelist  does  with  the  lifeless 
puppets  of  his  imagination,  the  Bishop  does  with 
real  beings  of  flesh  and  blood.  As  a  rational  being, 
however,  he  cannot  leave  things  to  chance.  Besides 
this,  he  must  arrange  the  matter  before  the  young 
man  takes  orders,  because,  by  the  rules  of  the 
Church,  the  marriage  cannot  take  place  after  the 
ceremony  of  ordination.  When  the  affair  is  arranged 
before  the  charge  becomes  vacant,  the  old  priest 
can  die  with  the  pleasant  consciousness  that  his 
family  is  provided  for." 

"Well,  Batushka,  you  certainly  put  the  matter 
in  a  very  plausible  way,  but  there  seem  to  be  two 
flaws  in  the  analogy.     The  novelist  can  make  two 

82 


THE    VILLAGE    PRIEST 

people  fall  in  love  with  each  other,  and  make  them 
live  happily  together  with  the  mother-in-law,  but 
that  —  with  all  due  respect  to  his  Reverence  be  it 
said  —  is  beyond  the  power  of  a  Bishop." 

**I  don't  know,"  said  Batushka,  avoiding  the 
point  of  the  objection,  *'that  love-marriages  are 
always  the  happiest  ones;  and  as  to  the  mother-in- 
law,  there  are  —  or  at  least  there  were  until  the 
Emancipation  of  the  serfs  —  a  mother-in-law  and 
several  daughters-in-law  in  almost  every  peasant 
household." 

"And  does  harmony  generally  reign  in  peasant 
households.^" 

"That  depends  upon  the  head  of  the  house.  If 
he  is  a  man  of  the  right  sort,  he  can  keep  the  women- 
folks in  order."  This  remark  was  made  in  an  ener- 
getic tone,  with  the  evident  intention  of  assuring 
me  that  the  speaker  was  himself  "a  man  of  the 
right  sort,"  but  I  did  not  attribute  much  importance 
to  it,  for  I  have  often  observed  that  hen-pecked 
husbands  habitually  talk  in  this  way  when  their 
wives  are  out  of  hearing.  Altogether  I  was  by  no 
means  convinced  that  the  system  of  providing  for 
the  widows  and  orphans  of  the  clergy  by  means  of 
manages  de  convenance  was  a  good  one,  but  I  deter- 
mined to  suspend  my  judgment  until  I  should  receive 
further  information. 

An  additional  bit  of  evidence  came  to  me  a  week 
or  two  later.  One  morning,  on  going  into  the 
priest's  house,  I  found  that  he  had  a  friend  with 
him  —  the  priest   of  a   village  some  fifteen   miles 

83 


RUSSIA 

off.  Before  we  had  got  through  the  ordinary  con- 
ventional remarks  about  the  weather  and  the  crops, 
a  peasant  drove  up  to  the  door  in  his  cart  with  a 
message  that  an  old  peasant  was  dying  in  a  neigh- 
bouring village,  and  desired  the  last  consolations  of 
religion.  Batushka  was  thus  obliged  to  leave  us, 
and  his  friend  and  I  agreed  to  stroll  leisurely  in  the 
direction  of  the  village  to  which  he  was  going,  so 
as  to  meet  him  on  his  way  home.  The  harvest  was 
already  finished,  so  that  our  road,  after  emerging 
from  the  village,  lay  through  stubble-fields.  Beyond 
this  we  entered  the  pine  forest,  and  by  the  time  we 
had  reached  this  point  I  had  succeeded  in  leading 
the  conversation  to  the  subject  of  clerical  marriages. 

"I  have  been  thinking  a  good  deal  on  this  sub- 
ject," I  said,  "and  I  should  very  much  like  to  know 
your  opinion  about  the  system." 

My  new  acquaintance  was  a  tall,  lean,  black- 
haired  man,  with  a  sallow  complexion  and  vinegar 
aspect  —  evidently  one  of  those  unhappy  mortals 
who  are  intended  by  Nature  to  take  a  pessimistic 
view  of  all  things,  and  to  point  out  to  their  fellows 
the  deep  shadows  of  human  life.  I  was  not  at  all 
surprised,  therefore,  when  he  replied  in  a  deep,  de- 
cided tone,  "Bad,  very  bad  —  utterly  bad!" 

The  way  in  which  these  words  were  pronounced 
left  no  doubt  as  to  the  opinion  of  the  speaker,  but  I 
was  desirous  of  knowing  on  what  that  opinion  was 
founded  —  more  especially  as  I  seemed  to  detect 
in  the  tone  a  note  of  personal  grievance.  My  an- 
swer was  shaped  accordingly. 

84 


THE    VILLAGE    PRIEST 

"I  suspected  that;  but  in  the  discussions  which 
I  have  had  I  have  always  been  placed  at  a  disad- 
vantage, not  being  able  to  adduce  any  definite  facts 
in  support  of  my  opinion." 

"You  may  congratulate  yourself  on  being  unable 
to  find  any  in  your  own  experience.  A  mother-in- 
law  living  in  the  house  does  not  conduce  to  domestic 
harmony.  I  don't  know  how  it  is  in  your  country, 
but  so  it  is  with  us." 

I  hastened  to  assure  him  that  this  was  not  a 
peculiarity  of  Russia. 

"I  know  it  only  too  well,"  he  continued.  "My 
mother-in-law  lived  with  me  for  some  years,  and  I 
was  obliged  at  last  to  insist  on  her  going  to  another 
son-in-law." 

"Rather  selfish  conduct  towards  your  brother-in- 
law,"  I  said  to  myself,  and  then  added  audibly, 
**I  hope  you  have  thus  solved  the  difficulty  satis- 
factorily." 

"Not  at  all.  Things  are  worse  now  than  they 
were.  I  agreed  to  pay  her  three  roubles  a  month, 
and  have  regularly  fulfilled  my  promise,  but  lately 
she  has  thought  it  not  enough,  and  has  made  a 
complaint  to  the  Bishop.  Last  week  I  went  to  him 
to  defend  myself,  but  as  I  had  not  money  enough 
for  all  the  officials  in  the  Consistorium,  I  could  not 
obtain  justice.  My  mother-in-law  had  made  all 
sorts  of  absurd  accusations  against  me,  and  con- 
sequently I  was  laid  under  an  inhibition  for  six 
weeks!" 

"And  what  is  the  effect  of  an  inhibition.'*" 

85 


RUSSIA 

"The  effect  is  that  I  cannot  perform  the  ordinary- 
rites  of  our  religion.  It  is  really  very  unjust,'* 
he  added,  assuming  an  indignant  tone,  "and  very 
annoying.  Think  of  all  the  hardship  and  incon- 
venience to  which  it  gives  rise." 

As  I  thought  of  the  hardship  and  inconvenience 
to  which  the  parishioners  must  be  exposed  through 
the  inconsiderate  conduct  of  the  old  mother-in-law, 
I  could  not  but  sympathise  with  my  new  acquaint- 
ance's indignation.  My  sympathy  was,  however, 
somewhat  cooled  when  I  perceived  that  I  was  on 
a  wrong  tack,  and  that  the  priest  was  looking  at 
the  matter  from  an  entirely  different  point  of  view. 

"You  see,"  he  said,  "it  is  a  most  unfortunate 
time  of  year.  The  peasants  have  gathered  in  their 
harvest,  and  can  give  of  their  abundance.  There 
are  merry-makings  and  marriages,  besides  the  ordi- 
nary deaths  and  baptisms.  Altogether  I  shall  lose 
by  the  thing  more  than  a  hundred  roubles!" 

I  confess  I  was  a  little  shocked  at  hearing  the 
priest  thus  speak  of  his  sacred  functions  as  if  they 
were  an  ordinary  marketable  commodity,  and  talk 
of  the  inhibition  as  a  pushing  undertaker  might  talk 
of  sanitary  improvements.  My  surprise  was  caused 
not  by  the  fact  that  he  regarded  the  matter  from  a 
pecuniary  point  of  view  —  for  I  was  old  enough  to 
know  that  clerical  human  nature  is  not  altogether 
insensible  to  pecuniary  considerations  —  but  by  the 
fact  that  he  should  thus  undisguisedly  express  his 
opinions  to  a  stranger  without  in  the  least  sus- 
pecting that  there  was  anything  unseemly  in  his 

8G 


THE    VILLAGE    PRIEST 

way  of  speaking.  The  incident  appeared  to  me 
very  characteristic,  but  I  refrained  from  all  audible 
comments,  lest  I  should  unexpectedly  check  his 
communicativeness.  With  the  view  of  encouraging 
it,  I  professed  to  be  very  much  interested,  as  I 
really  was,  in  what  he  said,  and  I  asked  him  how 
in  his  opinion  the  present  unsatisfactory  state  of 
things  might  be  remedied. 

"There  is  but  one  cure,"  he  said,  with  a  readi- 
ness that  showed  he  had  often  spoken  on  the 
theme  already,  **and  that  is  freedom  and  publicity. 
We  full-grown  men  are  treated  like  children,  and 
watched  like  conspirators.  If  we  wish  to  preach  a 
sermon  we  are  expected    to    show  it  first  to  the 

Blagotchinny,  and " 

**I  beg  your  pardon,  who  is  the  Blagotchinny?" 
"The  Blagotchinny  is  a  parish  priest,  who  is  in 
direct  relations  with  the  Consistorium  of  the  Prov- 
ince, and  who  is  supposed  to  exercise  a  strict  super- 
vision over  all  the  other  parish  priests  of  his  district. 
He  acts  as  the  spy  of  the  Consistorium,  which 
is  filled  with  greedy,  shameless  oflBcials,  who  are 
deaf  to  any  one  who  does  not  come  provided  with 
a  handful  of  roubles.  The  Bishop  may  be  a  good, 
well-intentioned  man,  but  he  always  sees  and  acts 
through  these  worthless  subordinates.  Besides  this, 
the  Bishops  and  heads  of  monasteries,  who  mo- 
nopolise the  higher  places  in  the  ecclesiastical  Ad- 
ministration, all  belong  to  the  Black  Clergy  —  that 
is  to  say,  they  are  all  monks  —  and  consequently 
cannot  understand  our  wants.     How  can  they,  on 

87 


RUSSIA 

whom  celibacy  is  imposed  by  the  rules  of  the 
Church,  understand  the  position  of  a  parish  priest 
who  has  to  bring  up  a  family  and  to  struggle  with 
domestic  cares  of  every  kind?  Wiat  they  do  is  to 
take  all  the  comfortable  places  for  themselves,  and 
leave  us  all  the  hard  work.  The  monasteries  are 
rich  enough,  and  you  see  how  poor  we  are.  Perhaps 
you  have  heard  that  the  parish  priests  extort  money 
from  the  peasants  —  refusing  to  perform  the  rites 
of  baptism  or  burial  until  a  considerable  sum  has 
been  paid.  It  is  only  too  true,  but  who  is  to  blame? 
The  priest  must  live  and  bring  up  his  family,  and 
you  cannot  imagine  the  humiliations  to  which  he 
has  to  submit  in  order  to  gain  a  scanty  pittance.  I 
know  it  by  experience.  When  I  make  the  periodical 
visitation  I  can  see  that  the  peasants  grudge  every 
handful  of  rye  and  every  egg  that  they  give  me.  I 
can  overhear  their  sneers  as  I  go  away,  and  I  know 
they  have  many  sayings  such  as  — '  The  priest 
takes  from  the  living  and  from  the  dead.'  Many 
of  them  fasten  their  doors,  pretending  to  be  away 
from  home,  and  do  not  even  take  the  precaution 
of  keeping  silent  till  I  am  out  of  hearing." 

"You  surprise  me,"  I  said,  in  reply  to  the  last 
part  of  this  long  tirade;  "I  have  always  heard  that 
the  Russians  are  a  very  religious  people  —  at  least, 
the  lower  classes." 

"So  they  are;  but  the  peasantry  are  poor  and 
heavily  taxed.  They  set  great  importance  on  the 
sacraments,  and  observe  rigorously  the  fasts,  which 
comprise  nearly  half  of  the  year,  but  they  show  very 

88 


THE    VILLAGE    PRIEST 

little  respect  for  their  priests,  who  are  almost  as 
poor  as  themselves." 

"But  I  do  not  see  clearly  how  you  propose  to 
remedy  this  state  of  things." 

"By  freedom  and  publicity,  as  I  said  before." 
The  worthy  man  seemed  to  have  learned  this  for- 
mula by  rote.  "  First  of  all,  our  wants  must  be  made 
known.  In  some  provinces  there  have  been  attempts 
to  do  this  by  means  of  provincial  assemblies  of  the 
clergy,  but  these  efforts  have  always  been  strenu- 
ously opposed  by  the  Consistories,  whose  members 
fear  publicity  above  all  things.  But  in  order  to 
have  publicity  we  must  have  more  freedom." 

Here  followed  a  long  discourse  on  freedom  and 
publicity,  which  seemed  to  me  very  confused.  So 
far  as  I  could  understand  the  argument,  there  was 
a  good  deal  of  reasoning  in  a  circle.  Freedom  was 
necessary  in  order  to  get  publicity,  and  publicity 
was  necessary  in  order  to  get  freedom ;  and  the  prac- 
tical result  would  be  that  the  clergy  would  enjoy 
bigger  salaries  and  more  popular  respect.  We  had 
only  got  this  length  in  the  investigation  of  the  sub- 
ject, when  our  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the 
rumbling  of  a  peasant's  cart.  In  a  few  seconds  our 
friend  appeared,  and  the  conversation  took  a  differ- 
ent turn. 

Since  that  time  I  have  frequently  spoken  on  this 
subject  with  competent  authorities,  and  nearly  all 
have  admitted  that  the  present  condition  of  the 
clergy  is  highly  unsatisfactory,  and  that  the  parish 
priest  rarely  enjoys  the  respect  of  his  parishioners. 

89 


RUSSIA 

In  a  semi-official  report,  which  I  once  accidentally- 
stumbled  upon  when  searching  for  material  of  a 
different  kind,  the  facts  are  stated  in  the  following 
plain  language:  "The  people"  —  I  seek  to  translate 
as  literally  as  possible  —  "do  not  respect  the  clergy, 
but  persecute  them  with  derision  and  reproaches, 
and  feel  them  to  be  a  burden.  In  nearly  all  the 
popular  comic  stories  the  priest,  his  wife,  or  his 
labourer  is  held  up  to  ridicule,  and  in  all  the  prov- 
erbs and  popular  sayings  where  the  clergy  are  men- 
tioned it  is  always  with  derision.  The  people  shun 
the  clergy,  and  have  recourse  to  them  not  from  the 
inner  impulse  of  conscience,  but  from  necessity.  .  .  . 
And  why  do  the  people  not  respect  the  clergy? 
Because  it  forms  a  class  apart;  because,  having 
received  a  false  kind  of  education,  it  does  not  intro- 
duce into  the  life  of  the  people  the  teaching  of  the 
Spirit,  but  remains  in  the  mere  dead  forms  of  out- 
ward ceremonial,  at  the  same  time  despising  these 
forms  even  to  blasphemy;  because  the  clergy  itself 
continually  presents  examples  of  want  of  respect  to 
religion,  and  transforms  the  service  of  God  into  a 
profitable  trade.  Can  the  people  respect  the  clergy 
when  they  hear  how  one  priest  stole  money  from 
below  the  pillow  of  a  dying  man  at  the  moment  of 
confession,  how  another  was  publicly  dragged  out 
of  a  house  of  ill-fame,  how  a  third  christened  a  dog, 
how  a  fourth  whilst  officiating  at  the  Easter  service 
was  dragged  by  the  hair  from  the  altar  by  the  dea- 
con? Is  it  possible  for  the  people  to  respect  priests 
who  spend  their  time  in  the  gin-shop,  write  fraudu- 

90 


THE   VILLAGE    PRIEST 

lent  petitions,  fight  with  the  cross  in  their  hands, 
and  abuse  each  other  in  bad  language  at  the  altar? 
One  might  fill  several  pages  with  examples  of  this 
kind  —  in  each  instance  naming  the  time  and  place 
— without  overstepping  the  boundaries  of  the  prov- 
ince of  Nizhni-Novgorod.  Is  it  possible  for  the  peo- 
ple to  respect  the  clergy  when  they  see  everywhere 
amongst  them  simony,  carelessness  in  performing 
the  religious  rites,  and  disorder  in  administering  the 
sacraments?  Is  it  possible  for  the  people  to  respect 
the  clergy  when  they  see  that  truth  has  disappeared 
from  it,  and  that  the  Consistories,  guided  in  their 
decisions  not  by  rules,  but  by  personal  friendship 
and  bribery,  destroy  in  it  the  last  remains  of  truth- 
fulness? If  we  add  to  all  this  the  false  certificates 
which  the  clergy  give  to  those  who  do  not  wish  to 
partake  of  the  Eucharist,  the  dues  illegally  extracted 
from  the  Old  Ritualists,  the  conversion  of  the  altar 
into  a  source  of  revenue,  the  giving  of  churches 
to  priests'  daughters  as  a  dowry,  and  similar  phe- 
nomena, the  question  as  to  whether  the  people  can 
respect  the  clergy  requires  no  answer." 

It  must  be  admitted  that  the  Russian  people  are 
in  a  certain  sense  religious.  They  go  regularly  to 
church  on  Sundays  and  holy-days,  cross  themselves 
repeatedly  when  they  pass  a  church  or  Icon,  take 
the  Holy  Communion  at  stated  seasons,  rigorously 
abstain  from  animal  food  —  not  only  on  Wednesdays 
and  Fridays,  but  also  during  Lent  and  the  other 
long  fasts  —  make  occasional  pilgrimages  to  holy 
shrines,  and,  in  a  word,  fulfil  punctiliously  all  the 

91 


RUSSIA 

ceremonial  observances  which  they  suppose  neces- 
sary for  salvation.  But  here  their  religiousness 
ends.  They  are  generally  profoundly  ignorant  of 
religious  doctrine,  and  know  little  or  nothing  of 
Holy  Writ.  A  peasant,  it  is  said,  was  once  asked 
by  a  priest  if  he  could  name  the  three  Persons  of 
the  Trinity,  and  replied  without  a  moment's  hesi- 
tation, "How  can  one  not  know  that,  Batushka? 
Of  course  it  is  the  Saviour,  the  Mother  of  God, 
and  Saint  Nicholas  the  miracle-worker!"  That 
answer  represents  fairly  enough  the  theological  at- 
tainments of  a  very  large  section  of  the  peasantry. 
The  anecdote  is  so  w^ell  known  and  so  often  repeated 
that  it  is  probably  an  invention,  but  it  is  not  a 
calumny.  Of  theology  and  of  what  Protestants 
term  the  "inner  religious  life,"  the  Russian  peas- 
ant has  no  conception.  For  him  the  ceremonial  part 
of  religion  suffices,  and  he  has  the  most  unbounded 
childlike  confidence  in  the  saving  efficacy  of  the 
rites  which  he  practises.  If  he  has  been  baptised 
in  infancy,  has  regularly  observed  the  fasts,  has 
annually  partaken  of  the  Holy  Communion,  and 
has  just  confessed  and  received  extreme  unction, 
he  feels  death  approach  with  the  most  perfect 
tranquillity.  He  is  tormented  with  no  doubts  as 
to  the  efficacy  of  faith  or  works,  and  has  no  fears 
that  his  past  life  may  possibly  have  rendered  him 
unfit  for  eternal  felicity.  Like  a  man  in  a  sinking 
ship  who  has  buckled  on  his  life-preserver,  he  feels 
perfectly  secure.  With  no  fear  for  the  future  and 
and  little  regret  for  the  present  or  the  past,  he  awaits 

92 


THE    VILLAGE    PRIEST 

calmly  the  dread  summons,  and  dies  with  a  resigna- 
tion which  a  Stoic  philosopher  might  envy. 

In  the  above  paragraph  I  have  used  the  word 
Icon,  and  perhaps  the  reader  may  not  clearly  un- 
derstand the  word.  Let  me  explain  then,  briefly, 
what  an  Icon  is  —  a  very  necessary  explanation, 
for  the  Icons  play  an  important  part  in  the  religious 
observances  of  the  Russian  people. 

Icons  are  pictorial  half-length  representations  of 
the  Saviour,  of  the  Madonna,  or  of  a  saint,  executed 
in  archaic  Byzantine  style,  on  a  yellow  or  gold 
ground,  and  varying  in  size  from  a  square  inch  to 
several  square  feet.  Very  often  the  whole  picture, 
with  the  exception  of  the  face  and  hands  of  the 
figure,  is  covered  with  a  metal  plaque,  embossed 
so  as  to  represent  the  form  of  the  figure  and  the 
drapery.  When  this  plaque  is  not  used,  the  crown 
and  costume  are  often  adorned  with  pearls  and 
other  precious  stones  —  sometimes  of  great  price. 

A  careful  examination  of  Icons  belonging  to  various 
periods  has  led  me  to  the  conclusion  that  they  were 
originally  simple  pictures,  and  that  the  metallic 
plaque  is  a  modern  innovation.  The  first  departure 
from  purely  pictorial  representation  seems  to  have 
been  the  habit  of  placing  on  the  head  of  the  painted 
figure  a  piece  of  ornamental  gold-work,  sometimes 
set  with  precious  stones,  to  represent  a  nimbus  or 
a  crown.  This  strange,  and  to  our  minds  barbarous, 
method  of  combining  painting  with  haut-relief  — 
if  such  a  term  may  be  applied  to  this  peculiar  kind 
of  decoration  —  was  afterwards  gradually  extended 

93 


RUSSIA 

to  the  various  parts  of  the  costume,  until  only  the 
face  and  hands  of  the  figure  remained  visible,  when 
it  was  found  convenient  to  unite  these  various  orna- 
ments with  the  gilt  background  into  a  single  em- 
bossed plate. 

In  respect  of  religious  significance,  Icons  are  of 
two  kinds:  simple,  and  miraculous  or  miracle-work- 
ing {tchudotvorny) .  The  former  are  manufactured 
in  enormous  quantities  —  chiefly  in  the  province 
of  Vladimir,  where  whole  villages  are  employed  in 
this  kind  of  work  —  and  are  to  be  found  in  every 
Russian  house,  from  the  hut  of  the  peasant  to  the 
palace  of  the  Emperor.  They  are  generally  placed 
high  up  in  a  corner  facing  the  door,  and  good 
orthodox  Christians  on  entering  bow  in  that  direc- 
tion, making  at  the  same  time  the  sign  of  the  cross. 
Before  and  after  meals  the  same  short  ceremony  is 
always  performed.  On  the  eve  of  fete-days  a  small 
lamp  is  kept  burning  before  at  least  one  of  the  Icons 
in  the  house. 

The  wonder-working  Icons  are  comparatively  few 
in  number,  and  are  always  carefully  preserved  in  a 
church  or  chapel.  They  are  commonly  believed  to 
have  been  "not  made  with  hands,"  and  to  have 
appeared  in  a  miraculous  way.  A  monk,  or  it  may 
be  a  common  mortal,  has  a  vision,  in  whch  he  is 
informed  that  he  may  find  a  miraculous  Icon  in 
such  a  place,  and  on  going  to  the  spot  indicated  he 
finds  it,  sometimes  buried,  sometimes  hanging  on  a 
tree.  The  sacred  treasure  is  then  removed  to  a 
church,  and  the  news  spreads  like  wildfire  through 

94 


THE   VILLAGE    PRIEST 

the  district.  Thousands  flock  to  prostrate  them- 
selves before  the  heaven-sent  picture,  and  some 
of  them  are  healed  of  their  diseases  —  a  fact  that 
plainly  indicates  its  miracle-working  power.  The 
whole  affair  is  then  oflicially  reported  to  the  Most 
Holy  Synod  —  the  highest  ecclesiastical  authority 
in  Russia  under  the  Emperor  —  in  order  that  the 
existence  of  the  miracle-working  power  may  be 
fully  and  regularly  proved.  The  oflScial  recognition 
of  the  fact  is  by  no  means  a  mere  matter  of  form,  for 
the  Synod  is  well  aware  that  wonder-working  Icons 
are  always  a  rich  source  of  revenue  to  the  monasteries 
where  they  are  kept,  and  that  zealous  Superiors 
are  consequently  apt  in  such  cases  to  lean  to  the 
side  of  credulity,  rather  than  that  of  over-severe 
criticism.  A  regular  investigation  is  therefore  made 
and  the  formal  recognition  is  not  granted  till  the 
testimony  of  the  finder  is  thoroughly  examined  and 
the  alleged  miracles  duly  authenticated.  If  the 
recognition  is  granted,  the  Icon  is  treated  with  the 
greatest  veneration,  and  is  sure  to  be  visited  by 
pilgrims  from  far  and  near. 


95 


CHAPTER  V 

A   MEDICAL  CONSULTATION 

IN  enumerating  the  requisites  for  travelling^ in 
the  less  frequented  parts  of  Russia,  I  omitted 
to  mention  one  important  condition:  the  trav- 
eller must  make  up  his  mind^to  be  always  in  good 
health,  and  in  case  of  illness  to  dispense  with  regular 
medical  attendance.  This  I  learned  by  experience 
during  my  stay  at  Ivanofka. 

A  man  who  is  accustomed  to  be  always  well,  and 
has  consequently  cause  to  believe  himself  exempt 
from  the  ordinary  ills  that  flesh  is  heir  to,  natu- 
rally feels  aggrieved  —  as  if  some  one  had  inflicted 
upon  him  an  undeserved  injury  —  when  he  suddenly 
finds  himself  ill.  At  first  he  refuses  to  believe  the 
fact,  and,  as  far  as  possible,  takes  no  notice  of  the 
disagreeable  symptoms. 

Such  was  my  state  of  mind  on  being  awakened 
early  one  morning  by  peculiar  symptoms  which  I 
had  never  before  experienced.  Unwilling  to  admit 
to  myself  the  possibility  of  being  ill,  I  got  up,  and 
endeavoured  to  dress  as  usual,  but  very  soon  dis- 
covered that  I  was  unable  to  stand.  There  was  no 
denying  the  fact:  not  only  was  I  ill,  but  the  malady, 
whatever  it  was,  surpassed  my  powers  of  diagnosis; 

9G 


A   MEDICAL    CONSULTATION 

and  when  the  symptoms  increased  steadily  all  that 
day  and  the  following  night,  I  was  constrained  to 
take  the  humiliating  decision  of  asking  for  medical 
advice.  To  my  inquiries  whether  there  was  a  doctor 
in  the  neighbourhood,  the  old  servant  replied,  "There 
is  not  exactly  a  doctor,  but  there  is  a  Feldsher  in  the 
village." 

"And  what  is  a  Feldsher?" 

"A  Feldsher  is   ...  is  a  Feldsher." 

"I  am  quite  aware  of  that,  but  I  should  like  to 
know  what  you  mean  by  the  word.  What  is  this 
Feldsher.'*" 

"He's  an  old  soldier  who  dresses  wounds  and 
gives  physic." 

The  definition  did  not  dispose  me  in  favour  of 
the  mysterious  personage,  but  as  there  was  nothing 
better  to  be  had  I  ordered  him  to  be  sent  for,  not- 
withstanding the  strenuous  opposition  of  the  old 
servant,  who  evidently  did  not  believe  in  Feldshers. 

In  about  half  an  hour  a  tall,  broad-shouldered  man 
entered,  and  stood  bolt  upright  in  the  middle  of 
the  room  in  the  attitude  which  is  designated  in 
military  language  by  the  word  "Attention."  His 
clean-shaven  chin,  long  moustache,  and  closely- 
cropped  hair  confirmed  one  part  of  the  old  servant's 
definition;  he  was  unmistakably  an  old  soldier." 

"You  are  a  Feldsher,"  I  said,  making  use  of  the 
word  which  I  had  recently  added  to  my  vocabulary. 

"Exactly  so,  your  Nobility!"  These  words,  the 
ordinary  form  of  affirmation  used  by  soldiers  to 
their  officers,  were  pronounced  in  a  loud,  metallic, 

RUSSIA    I  —  7  97 


RUSSIA 

monotonous  tone,  as  if  the  speaker  had  been  an 
automaton  conversing  with  a  brother  automaton  at 
a  distance  of  twenty  yards.  As  soon  as  the  words 
were  pronounced  the  mouth  of  the  machine  closed 
spasmodically,  and  the  head,  which  had  been  mo- 
mentarily turned  towards  me,  reverted  to  its  former 
position  with  a  jerk,  as  if  it  had  received  the  order 
"Eyes  front!" 

"Then  please  to  sit  down  here,  and  I'll  tell  you 
what  is  the  matter  with  me."  Upon  this  the  figure 
took  three  paces  to  the  front,  wheeled  to  the  right- 
about, and  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  chair,  retain- 
ing the  position  of  "Attention"  as  nearly  as  the 
sitting  posture  would  allow.  When  the  symptoms 
had  been  carefully  described,  he  knitted  his  brows, 
and  after  some  reflection  remarked,  "I  can  give 
you  a  dose  of  .  .  . "  —  here  followed  a  long  word 
which  I  did  not  understand.  -^ 

"I  don't  wish  you  to  give  me  a  dose  of  anything 
till  I  know  what  is  the  matter  with  me.  Though 
a  bit  of  a  doctor  myself,  I  have  no  idea  what  it  is, 
and,  pardon  me,  I  think  you  are  in  the  same  posi- 
tion." Noticing  a  look  of  ruffled  professional  dignity 
on  his  face,  I  added,  as  a  sedative,  "It  is  evidently 
something  very  peculiar,  so  that  if  the  first  medical 
practitioner  in  the  country  were  present  he  would 
probably  be  as  much  puzzled  as  ourselves." 

The  sedative  evidently  had  the  desired  effect. 
"Well,  sir,  to  tell  you  the  truth,"  he  said,  in  a  more 
human  tone  of  voice,  "I  do  not  clearly  understand 
what  it  is." 

98 


A   MEDICAL    CONSULTATION 

"Exactly;  and  therefore  I  think  we  had  better 
leave  the  cure  to  Nature,  and  not  mterfere  with  her 
mode  of  treatment." 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  better." 

"No  doubt.  And  now,  since  I  have  to  lie  here 
on  my  back,  and  feel  rather  lonely,  I  should  like  to 
have  a  talk  with  you.  You  are  not  in  a  hurrv,  I 
hope.?" 

"Not  at  all.  My  assistant  knows  where  I  am, 
and  will  send  for  me  if  I  am  required." 

"So  you  have  an  assistant,  have  you.?" 

"Oh  yes;  a  very  sharp  young  fellow,  who  has  been 
two  years  in  the  Feldsher  school,  and  has  now  come 
here  to  help  me  and  learn  more  by  practice.  That 
is  a  new  way.  I  never  was  at  a  school  of  the  kind 
myself,  but  had  to  pick  up  what  I  could  when  a 
servant  in  the  hospital.  There  were,  I  believe,  no 
such  schools  in  my  time.  The  one  where  my  assist- 
ant learned  was  opened  by  the  Zemstvo." 

"The  Zemstvo  is  the  new  local  administration, 
is  it  not.?" 

"Exactly  so.  And  I  could  not  do  without  the 
assistant,"  continued  my  new  acquaintance,  gradu- 
ally losing  his  rigidity,  and  showing  himself,  what  he 
really  was,  a  kindly,  talkative,  man.  "I  have  often 
to  go  to  other  villages,  and  almost  every  day  a 
number  of  peasants  come  here.  At  first  I  had  very 
little  to  do,  for  the  people  thought  I  was  an  official, 
and  would  make  them  pay  dearly  for  what  I  should 
give  them;  but  now  they  know  that  they  don't 
require  to  pay,  and  come  in  great  numbers.     And 

99 


RUSSIA 

everything  I  give  them  —  though  sometimes  I  don't 
clearly  understand  what  the  matter  is  —  seems  to  do 
them  good.  I  believe  that  faith  does  as  much  as 
physic." 

"In  my  country,"  I  remarked,  "there  is  a  sect 
of  doctors  who  get  the  benefit  of  that  principle. 
They  give  their  patient  two  or  three  little  balls  no 
bigger  than  a  pin's  head,  or  a  few  drops  of  tasteless 
liquid,  and  they  sometimes  work  wonderful  cures." 

"That  system  would  not  do  for  us.  The  Russian 
muzhik  (peasant)  would  have  no  faith  if  he  swallowed 
merely  things  of  that  kind.  What  he  believes  in  is 
something  with  a  very  bad  taste,  and  lots  of  it. 
That  is  his  idea  of  a  medicine;  and  he  thinks  that 
the  more  he  takes  of  a  medicine,  the  better  chance 
he  has  of  getting  well.  When  I  wish  to  give  a 
peasant  several  doses  I  make  him  come  for  each 
separate  dose,  for  I  know  that  if  I  did  not  he  would 
probably  swallow  the  whole  as  soon  as  he  was  out 
of  sight.  But  there  is  not  much  serious  disease 
here  —  not  what  I  used  to  see  on  the  Sheksna. 
You  have  been  on  the  Sheksna?" 

" Not  yet,  but  I  intend  going  there."  The  Sheksnd 
is  a  river  which  falls  into  the  Volga,  and  forms  part 
of  the  great  system  of  water-communication  connect- 
ing the  Volga  with  the  Neva. 

"When  you  go  there  you  will  see  lots  of  diseases. 
If  there  is  a  hot  summer,  and  plenty  of  barges 
passing,  something  is  sure  to  break  out  —  typhus, 
or  black  small-pox,  or  Siberian  plague,  or  something 
of   the   kind.     That   Siberian   plague   is   a   curious 

100 


A   MEDICAL    CONSULTATION 

thing.  Whether  it  really  comes  from  Siberia,  God 
only  knows.  So  soon  as  it  breaks  out  the  horses 
die  by  dozens,  and  sometimes  men  and  women 
are  attacked,  though  it  is  not  properly  a  human 
disease.  They  say  that  flies  carry  the  poison  from 
the  dead  horses  to  the  people.  The  sign  of  it  is  a 
thing  like  a  boil,  with  a  dark-coloured  rim.  If  this 
is  cut  open  in  time  the  person  may  recover,  but  if  it 
is  not  the  person  dies.  There  is  cholera,  too,  some- 
times." 

**What  a  delightful  country,"  I  said  to  myself, 
"for  a  young  doctor  who  wishes  to  make  discoveries 
in  the  science  of  disease!"  The  catalogue  of  diseases 
inhabiting  this  favoured  region  was  apparently  not 
yet  complete,  but  it  was  cut  short  for  the  moment 
by  the  arrival  of  the  assistant,  with  the  announce- 
ment that  his  superior  was  wanted. 

This  first  interview  with  the  Feldsher  was,  on 
the  whole,  satisfactory.  He  had  not  rendered  me  any 
medical  assistance,  but  he  had  helped  me  to  pass  an 
hour  pleasantly,  and  had  given  me  a  little  informa- 
tion of  the  kind  I  desired.  My  later  interviews  with 
him  were  equally  agreeable.  He  was  naturally  an 
intelHgent,  observant  man,  who  had  seen  a  great 
deal  of  the  Russian  world,  and  could  describe 
graphically  what  he  had  seen.  Unfortunately  the 
horizontal  position  to  which  I  was  condemned  pre- 
vented me  from  noting  down  at  the  time  the  inter- 
esting things  which  he  related  to  me.  His  visits, 
together  with  those  of  Karl  Karl 'itch,  and  of  the 
priest,  who  kindly  spent  a  great  part  of  his  time 

101 


RUSSIA 

with  me,  helped  me  to  while  away  many  an  hour 
which  would  otherwise  have  been  dreary  enough. 

When  I  did  not  feel  disposed  to  read,  and  had  none 
of  my  regular  visitors  with  me,  I  sometimes  spent 
an  hour  or  two  in  talking  with  the  old  man-ser- 
vant who  attended  me.  Anton  was  decidedly  an  old 
man,  but  what  his  age  precisely  was  I  never  could 
discover;  either  he  did  not  know  himself,  or  he  did 
not  for  some  reason  wish  to  tell  me.  In  appearance 
he  seemed  about  sixty,  but  from  certain  remarks 
which  he  made  I  concluded  that  he  must  be  nearer 
seventy,  though  he  had  scarcely  a  grey  hair  on  his 
head.  As  to  who  his  father  was  he  seemed,  like 
the  famous  Topsy,  to  have  no  very  clear  ideas,  but 
he  had  an  advantage  over  Topsy  with  regard  to  his 
maternal  ancestry.  His  mother  had  been  a  serf 
who  had  fulfilled  for  some  time  the  functions  of 
lady's  maid,  and  after  the  death  of  her  mistress 
had  been  promoted  to  a  not  clearly-defined  position 
of  responsibility  in  the  household.  That  promotion 
had  taken  place  some  time  about  the  end  of  the 
last  or  the  commencement  of  the  present  century. 
Anton,  too,  had  been  promoted  in  his  time.  His 
first  function  in  the  household  had  been  that  of 
assistant-keeper  of  the  tobacco-pipes,  from  which 
humble  oflSce  he  had  gradually  risen  to  a  position 
which  may  be  roughly  designated  as  that  of  butler. 
All  this  time  he  had  been  of  course  a  serf,  as  his 
mother  had  been  before  him,  but  being  naturally 
a  man  of  sluggish  intellect  he  had  never  thoroughly 
realised  the  fact,  and  had  certainly  never  conceived 

102 


A   MEDICAL    CONSULTATION 

the  possibility  of  being  anything  different  from  what 
he  was.  His  master  was  master,  and  he  himself  was 
Anton,  obHged  to  obey  his  master,  or  at  least  con- 
ceal disobedience  —  these  were  long  the  main  facts 
in  his  conception  of  the  universe,  and,  as  philoso- 
phers generally  do  with  regard  to  fundamental  facts 
or  axioms,  he  had  accepted  them  without  examina- 
tion. By  means  of  these  simple  postulates  he  had 
led  a  tranquil  life,  untroubled  by  doubts,  until  the 
year  1861,  when  the  so-called  freedom  was  brought 
to  Ivanofka.  He  himself  had  not  gone  to  the  church 
to  hear  Batushka  read  the  Tsar's  manifesto,  but  his 
master,  on  returning  from  the  ceremony,  had  called 
him  and  said,  "Anton,  you  are  free  now,  but  the 
Tsar  says  you  are  to  serve  as  you  have  done  for  two 
years  longer." 

To  this  startling  announcement  Anton  had  re- 
plied coolly,  "Slushayus,"  or,  as  we  should  say, 
"Yes,  sir,"  and  without  further  comment  had  gone 
to  fetch  his  master's  breakfast;  but  what  he  saw 
and  heard  during  the  next  few  weeks  had  greatly 
troubled  his  old  conceptions  of  human  society  and 
the  fitness  of  things.  From  that  time  must  be 
dated,  I  suppose,  the  expression  of  mental  confusion 
which  his  face  habitually  wore. 

The  first  thing  that  roused  his  indignation  was 
the  conduct  of  his  fellow-servants.  Nearly  all  the 
unmarried  ones  seemed  to  be  suddenly  attacked  by 
a  peculiar  matrimonial  mania.  The  reason  of  this 
was  that  the  new  law  expressly  gave  permission  to 
the  emancipated  serfs  to  marry  as  they  chose  with- 

103 


RUSSIA 

out  the  consent  of  their  masters,  and  nearly  all  the 
unmarried  adults  hastened  to  take  advantage  of 
their  newly-acquired  privilege,  though  many  of  them 
had  great  difficulty  in  raising  the  capital  necessary 
to  pay  the  priest's  fees.  Then  came  the  disorders 
among  the  peasantry,  the  death  of  the  old  master, 
and  the  removal  of  the  family  first  to  St.  Peters- 
burg, and  afterwards  to  Germany.  Anton's  mind 
had  never  been  of  a  very  powerful  order,  and  these 
great  events  had  exercised  a  deleterious  influence 
upon  it.  When  Karl  Karl'itch,  at  the  expiry  of 
the  two  years,  informed  him  that  he  might  now  go 
where  he  chose,  he  replied,  with  a  look  of  blank 
unfeigned  astonishment,  "Where  can  I  go  to?"  He 
had  never  conceived  the  possibility  of  being  forced 
to  earn  his  bread  in  some  new  way,  and  begged 
Karl  Karl'itch  to  let  him  remain  where  he  was. 
This  request  was  readily  granted,  for  Anton  was  an 
honest,  faithful  servant,  and  sincerely  attached  to 
the  family,  and  it  was  accordingly  arranged  that 
he  should  receive  a  small  monthly  salary,  and 
occupy  an  intermediate  position  between  those  of 
major-domo  and  head  watch-dog. 

Had  Anton  been  transformed  into  a  real  watch- 
dog he  could  scarcely  have  slept  ^  more  than  he  did. 
His  power  of  sleeping,  and  his  somnolence  when  he 
imagined  he  was  awake,  were  his  two  most  prominent 
characteristics.  Out  of  consideration  for  his  years 
and  his  love  of  repose,  I  troubled  him  as  little  as 
possible;  but  even  the  small  amount  of  service  which 
I  demanded  he  contrived  to  curtail  in  an  ingenious 

104 


A    MEDICAL     CONSULTATION 

way.     The  time  and  exertion  required  for  travers- 
ing the  intervening  space  between  his  own  room 
and  mine  might,  he  thought,   be  more  profitably 
employed;  and  accordingly  he  extemporised  a  bed 
in  a  small  ante-chamber,   close  to  my  door,   and 
took  up  there  his  permanent  abode.     If  sonorous 
snoring   be  suflScient  proof   that  the  performer  is 
asleep,  then  I  venture  to  assert  that  Anton  devoted 
about  three-fourths  of  his  time  to  sleeping,  and  a 
large  part  of  the  remaining  fourth  to  yawning  and 
elongated  guttural  ejaculations.     At  first  this  little 
arrangement  considerably  annoyed  me,  but  I  bore 
it  patiently  and  afterwards  received  my  reward,  for 
during  my  illness  I   found   it  very  convenient  to 
have   an    attendant  within    call.    And  I  must  do 
Anton  the  justice  to  say  that  he  served  me  well  in 
his  own  somnolent  fashion.     He    seemed  to  have 
the  faculty  of  hearing  when  asleep,  and  generally 
appeared  in  my  room  before  he  had  succeeded  in 
getting  his  eyes  completely  open. 

Anton  had  never  found  time,  during  his  long  life, 
to  form  many  opinions,  but  he  had  somehow  im- 
bibed or  inhaled  a  few  convictions,  chiefly  of  a  decid- 
edly conservative  kind,  and  one  of  these  was  that 
Feldshers  were  useless  and  dangerous  members  of 
society.  Again  and  again  he  had  advised  me  to 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  one  who  visited  me, 
and  more  than  once  he  recommended  to  me  an  old 
woman  of  the  name  of  Masha,  who  lived  in  a  vil- 
lage a  few  miles  off.  Masha  was  what  is  known  in 
Russia  as  a  Znakharka  —  that  is  to  say,  a  woman 

105 


RUSSIA 

who  is  half  witch,  half  medical  practitioner  —  the 
whole  permeated  with  a  strong  leaven  of  knavery. 
According  to  Anton,  she  could  effect  by  means  of 
herbs  and  charms  every  possible  cure  short  of  rais- 
ing the  dead,  and  even  with  regard  to  this  last 
operation  he  refrained  from  expressing  an  opinion. 

The  idea  of  being  subjected  to  a  course  of  herbs 
and  charms  by  an  old  woman,  who  probably  knew 
very  little  about  the  hidden  properties  of  either, 
did  not  seem  to  me  inviting,  and  more  than  once  I 
flatly  refused  to  have  recourse  to  such  unhallowed 
means.  On  due  consideration,  however,  I  thought 
that  a  professional  interview  with  the  old  wutch 
would  be  rather  amusing,  and  then  a  brilliant  idea 
occurred  to  me!  I  should  bring  together  the  Feld- 
sher  and  the  Znakharka,  who  no  doubt  hated  each 
other  with  a  Kilkenny-cat  hatred,  and  let  them  fight 
it  out  before  me  for  the  benefit  of  science  and  my 
own  delectation.  The  evil  propensities  which  be- 
fore our  enlightened  age  produced  bull-baiting,  cock- 
fighting,  and  pugilistic  exhibitions  are  not  yet,  I 
fear,  quite  eradicated  from  human  nature. 

The  more  I  thought  of  my  project,  the  more  I 
congratulated  myself  on  having  conceived  a  brilliant 
idea;  but,  alas!  in  this  very  imperfectly  organised 
world  of  ours  brilliant  ideas  are  seldom  realised, 
and  in  this  case  I  was  destined  to  be  disappointed. 
Did  the  old  woman's  black  art  warn  her  of  approach- 
ing danger,  or  was  she  simply  actuated  by  a  feeling 
of  professional  jealousy  and  considerations  of  pro- 
fessional etiquette?     To  this  question  I  can  give  no 

lOG 


A    MEDICAL    CONSULTATION 

positive  answer,  but  certain  it  is  that  she  could  not 
be  induced  to  pay  me  a  visit,  and  I  was  thus 
baulked  of  my  expected  amusement.  I  succeeded, 
however,  in  learning  indirectly  something  about  the 
old  witch.  She  enjoyed  among  her  neighbours  that 
solid,  durable  kind  of  respect  which  is  founded  on 
vague,  undefinable  fear,  and  was  believed  to  have 
effected  many  remarkable  cures.  In  the  treatment 
of  syphilitic  diseases,  which  are  fearfully  common 
among  the  Russian  peasantry,  she  was  supposed  to 
be  specially  successful,  and  I  have  no  doubt,  from 
the  vague  descriptions  which  I  received,  that  the 
charm  which  she  employed  in  these  cases  was  of  a 
mercurial  kind.  Some  time  afterwards  I  saw  one 
of  her  victims.  Whether  she  had  succeeded  in  de- 
stroying the  poison  I  know  not,  but  she  had  at 
least  succeeded  in  destroying  most  completely  the 
patient's  teeth.  How  women  of  this  kind  obtain 
mercury,  and  how  they  have  discovered  its  medici- 
nal properties,  I  cannot  explain.  Neither  can  I 
explain  how  they  have  come  to  know  the  peculiar 
properties  of  ergot  of  rye,  which  they  frequently 
employ  for  illicit  purposes,  familiar  to  all  students 
of  medical  jurisprudence. 

The  Znakharka  and  the  Feldsher  represent  two 
very  different  periods  in  the  history  of  medical 
science  —  the  magical  and  the  scientific.  The  Rus- 
sian peasantry  have  still  many  conceptions  which 
belong  to  the  former.  The  great  majority  of  them 
are  already  quite  willing,  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances, to  use  the  scientific  means  of  healing;  but 

107 


RUSSIA 

as  soon  as  a  violent  epidemic  breaks  out,  and  the 
scientific  means  prove  unequal  to  the  occasion,  the 
old  faith  revives,  and  recourse  is  had  to  magical 
rites  and  incantations.  Of  these  rites  many  are 
very  curious.  Here,  for  instance,  is  one  which  was 
performed  in  a  village  near  which  I  happened  to  be 
living  in  the  summer  of  1871.  Cholera  had  been 
raging  in  the  district  for  some  time.  In  the  vil- 
lage in  question  no  case  had  yet  occurred,  but  the 
inhabitants  feared  that  the  dreaded  visitor  would 
soon  arrive,  and  the  following  ingenious  contriv- 
ance was  adopted  for  warding  off  the  danger.  At 
midnight,  when  the  male  population  was  supposed 
to  be  asleep,  all  the  maidens  met  in  nocturnal  cos- 
tume, according  to  a  preconcerted  plan,  in  the  out- 
skirts of  the  village,  and  formed  a  procession.  In 
front  marched  a  girl,  holding  an  Icon.  Behind  her 
came  her  companions,  dragging  a  sokha  —  the  prim- 
itive plough  commonly  used  by  the  peasantry  —  by 
means  of  a  long  rope.  In  this  order  the  procession 
made  the  circuit  of  the  entire  village,  and  it  was 
confidently  believed  that  the  cholera  would  not  be 
able  to  overstep  the  magical  circle  thus  described. 
Many  of  the  males  probably  knew,  or  at  least 
suspected,  what  was  going  on;  but  they  prudently 
remained  within  doors,  knowing  well  that  if  they 
should  be  caught  peeping  indiscreetly  at  the  mystic 
ceremony,  they  would  be  unmercifully  beaten  by 
those  who  were  taking  part  in  it. 

This  custom  is  doubtless  a  remnant  of  old  pagan 
superstitions.     The   introduction   of  the  Icon   is  a 

108 


A    MEDICAL    CONSULTATION 

modern  innovation,  which  illustrates  that  curious 
blending  of  paganism  and  Christianity  which  is 
often  to  be  met  with  in  Russia,  and  of  which  I  shall 
have  more  to  say  some  other  time. 

Sometimes,  when  an  epidemic  breaks  out,  the 
panic  produced  takes  a  more  dangerous  form.  The 
people  suspect  that  it  is  the  work  of  the  doctors,  or 
that  some  ill-disposed  persons  have  poisoned  the 
wells,  and  will  not  believe  that  their  own  habitual 
disregard  of  the  most  simple  sanitary  precautions 
amply  accounts  for  the  phenomenon.  I  know  of 
one  case  where  an  itinerant  photographer  was  se- 
verely maltreated  in  consequence  of  such  suspicions; 
and  once,  in  St.  Petersburg,  during  the  reign  of 
Nicholas,  a  serious  riot  took  place.  The  excited 
populace  had  already,  it  is  said,  thrown  several  doc- 
tors out  of  the  windows  of  the  hospital,  when  the 
Emperor  arrived,  unattended,  in  an  open  carriage, 
and  quelled  the  disturbance  by  his  simple  presence, 
aided  by  his  stentorian  voice. 


109 


CHAPTER  VI 

A   PEASANT  FAMILY  OF   THE  OLD   TYPE 

MY  illness  had  at  least  one  good  result.  It 
brought  me  into  contact  with  the  Feld- 
sher,  and  through  him  after  my  recovery 
I  made  the  acquaintance  of  several  peasants  living 
in  the  village.  Of  these  by  far  the  most  interesting 
was  an  old  man  called  Ivan  Petroff. 

Ivan  must  have  been  about  sixty  years  of  age, 
but  was  still  robust  and  strong,  and  had  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  able  to  mow  more  hay  in  a  given  time 
than  any  other  peasant  in  the  village.  His  head 
would  have  made  a  fine  study  for  a  portrait-painter. 
Like  Russian  peasants  in  general,  he  wore  his  hair 
parted  in  the  middle  —  a  custom  which  perhaps 
owes  its  origin  to  the  religious  pictures.  The  rev- 
erend appearance  given  to  his  face  by  his  long  fair 
beard,  slightly  tinged  with  grey,  was  in  part  coun- 
teracted by  his  eyes,  which  had  a  strange  twinkle 
in  them  —  whether  of  humour  or  of  roguery,  it 
was  difficult  to  say.  Under  all  circumstances  — 
whether  in  his  light,  nondescript  summer  costume, 
or  in  his  warm  sheep-skin,  or  in  the  long,  glossy, 
dark-blue,  double-breasted  coat  which  he  put  on 
occasionally  on  Sundays  and  holidays  —  he  always 

110 


A    PEASANT    FAMILY 

looked  a  well-fed,  respectable,  well-to-do  member  of 
society;   whilst  his  imperturbable  composure,   and 
the  entire  absence  of  obsequiousness  or  truculence 
in  his  manner,  indicated  plainly  that  he  possessed 
no  small  amount  of  calm,  deep-rooted  self-respect. 
A    stranger,    on    seeing    him,    might    readily    have 
leaped  to  the  conclusion  that  he  must  be  the  Village 
Elder,  but  in  reality  he  was  a  simple  member  of 
the    Commune,    like    his    neighbour,    poor   Zakhar 
Leshkof,  who  never  let  slip  an  opportunity  of  getting 
drunk,  was  always  in  debt  and  difficulties,  and,  on 
the  whole,  possessed  a  more  than  dubious  reputa- 
tion.    Ivan  had,  it  is  true,  been  Village  Elder  some 
years  before.     When  elected  by  the  Village  Assembly 
against  his  own  wishes,  he  had  said  quietly,  "Very 
well,  children;  I  will  serve  my  three  years;"  and  at 
the  end  of  that  period,  when  the  Assembly  wished 
to  re-elect  him,  he  had  answered  firmly,  "No,  chil- 
dren; I  have  served  my  time.     It  is  now  the  turn 
of  some  one  who  is  younger,  and  has  more  time. 
There's  Peter  Alekseyef,  a  good  fellow,  and  an  hon- 
est: you  may  choose  him."    And  the  Assembly  chose 
the  peasant  indicated;  for  Ivan,  though  a  simple 
member  of  the  Commune,  had  more  influence  in 
Communal  affairs  than  any  other  half-dozen  mem- 
bers put  together.     No  grave  matter  was  decided 
without    his    being   consulted,    and    there   was    at 
least  one  instance  on  record  of  the  Village  Assem- 
bly postponing  deliberations  for  a  week  because  he 
happened  to  be  absent  in  St.  Petersburg. 

No  stranger  casually  meeting  Ivan  could  ever  for 

111 


RUSSIA 

a  moment  have  suspected  that  that  big  man,  of  calm, 
commanding  aspect,  had  been  during  the  greater 
part  of  his  Hfe  a  serf.  And  yet  a  serf  he  had  been, 
from  his  birth  till  he  was  about  forty  years  of  age  — 
not  merely  a  serf  of  the  State,  but  the  serf  of  a  pro- 
prietor who  had  lived  habitually  on  his  property. 
For  forty  years  of  his  life  he  had  been  dependent  on 
the  arbitrary  will  of  a  master,  who  had  the  legal 
power  to  flog  him  as  often  and  as  severely  as  he 
considered  desirable.  In  reality,  however,  he  had 
never  been  subjected  to  corporal  punishment,  for 
the  proprietor  to  whom  he  had  belonged  had  been, 
though  in  some  respects  severe,  a  just  and  intelli- 
gent master. 

Ivan's  bright  and  intelligent  face  had  early  at- 
tracted the  master's  attention,  and  it  was  accord- 
ingly decided  that  he  should  learn  a  trade.  For  this 
purpose  he  was  sent  to  Moscow,  and  apprenticed 
there  to  a  carpenter.  After  four  years  of  appren- 
ticeship he  was  able  not  only  to  earn  his  own 
bread,  but  to  help  the  household  in  the  payment  of 
their  taxes,  and  to  pay  annually  to  his  master  a 
fixed  yearly  sum  —  first  ten,  then  twenty,  then 
thirty,  and  ultimately,  for  some  years  immediately 
before  the  Emancipation  in  1861,  seventy  roubles  — 
that  is  to  say,  seventy  of  the  old  paper  roubles,  or 
about  twenty  ''roubles  silver,"  as  the  new  paper 
roubles  are  commonly  termed.  In  return  for  this 
annual  sum  he  was  free  to  work  and  wander  about 
as  he  pleased,  and  for  some  years  he  had  made 
ample  use  of  his  conditional  liberty.     I  never  suc- 

112 


A    PEASANT    FAMILY 

ceeded  in  extracting  from  him  a  chronological  ac- 
count of  his  travels,  but  I  could  gather  from  his 
occasional  remarks  that  he  had  wandered  over  a 
great  part  of  European  Russia.  Evidently  he  had 
been  in  his  youth  what  is  colloquially  termed  "a 
roving  blade,"  and  had  by  no  means  confined  him- 
self to  the  trade  which  he  had  learned  during  his 
four  years  of  apprenticeship.  At  one  time  he  had 
helped  to  navigate  a  raft  from  Vetluga  to  Astra- 
khan, a  distance  of  about  two  thousand  miles.  At 
another  time  he  had  been  at  Archangel  and  Onega, 
on  the  shores  of  the  White  Sea.  St.  Petersburg  and 
Moscow  were  both  well  known  to  him,  and  once 
at  least  he  had  visited  Odessa.  The  precise  nature 
of  his  occupation  during  these  wanderings  I  could 
not  ascertain;  for,  with  all  his  openness  of  manner, 
he  was  extremely  reticent  regarding  his  commercial 
affairs.  To  all  my  inquiries  on  this  topic  he  replied 
vaguely,  "Lesnoe  dyelo"  —  that  is  to  say,  *'A  wood 
affair;"  and  from  this  I  concluded  that  his  chief 
occupation  had  been  that  of  a  timber  merchant. 
Indeed,  when  I  knew  him,  though  he  was  no  longer 
a  regular  trader,  it  was  well  known  that  he  was 
always  ready  to  buy  any  bit  of  forest  that  could  be 
bought  in  the  vicinity  for  a  reasonable  price.  His 
reticence  regarding  his  commercial  transactions  was 
probably  learned  from  the  regular  traders,  who  are 
always  very  reluctant  to  communicate  anything 
regarding  their  mercantile  affairs. 

During  all  this  nomadic  period  of  his  life  Ivan 
had  never  entirely  severed  his  connection  with  his 

BU8S1A    I  —  8  113 


RUSSIA 

home  or  with  agricultural  life.  When  about  the 
age  of  twenty  he  had  spent  several  months  at  home, 
taking  part  in  the  field  labour,  and  had  married  a 
wife  —  a  strong,  healthy  young  woman,  who  had 
been  selected  for  him  by  his  mother,  and  strongly 
recommended  in  consideration  of  her  good  character 
and  her  physical  strength.  In  the  opinion  of  Ivan's 
mother,  beauty  was  a  kind  of  luxury  which  only 
nobles  and  rich  merchants  could  afford,  and  ordi- 
nary comeliness  was  a  very  secondary  consideration 
—  so  secondary  as  to  be  left  almost  entirely  out 
of  sight.  This  was  likewise  the  opinion  of  Ivan's 
wife.  She  had  never  been  comely  herself,  she  used 
to  say,  but  she  had  been  a  good  wife  to  her  husband. 
He  had  never  complained  about  her  want  of  good 
looks,  and  had  never  gone  after  those  who  were 
considered  good-looking.  In  expressing  this  opinion 
she  always  first  bent  forw^ard,  then  drew  herself 
up  to  her  full  length,  and  finally  gave  a  little  jerky 
nod  sideways,  so  as  to  clench  the  statement.  Then 
Ivan's  bright  eye  would  twinkle  more  brightly 
than  usual,  and  he  would  ask  her  how  she  knew 
that  —  reminding  her  that  he  was  not  always  at 
home.  This  was  Ivan's  stereotyped  mode  of  teas- 
ing his  wife,  and  every  time  he  employed  it  he 
was  called  an  "old  scarecrow,"  or  something  of  the 
kind. 

Perhaps,  however,  Ivan's  jocular  remark  had  more 
significance  in  it  than  his  wife  cared  to  admit,  for 
during  the  first  years  of  their  married  life  they  had 
seen  very  little  of  each  other.     A  few  days  after  the 

114 


A    PEASANT    FAMILY 

marriage,  when  according  to  our  notions  the  honey- 
moon should  be  at  its  height,  Ivan  had  gone  to 
Moscow  for  several  months,  leaving  his  young  bride 
to  the  care  of  his  father  and  mother.  The  young 
bride  did  not  consider  this  an  extraordinary  hard- 
ship, for  many  of  her  companions  had  been  treated 
in  the  same  way,  and  according  to  public  opinion 
in  that  part  of  the  country  there  was  nothing  ab- 
normal in  the  proceeding.  Indeed,  it  may  be  said 
in  general  that  there  is  very  little  romance  or  sen- 
timentality about  Russian  peasant  marriages.  The 
wife  is  taken  as  a  helpmate,  or  in  plain  language 
a  worker,  rather  than  as  a  companion,  and  the 
mother-in-law  leaves  her  very  little  time  to  indulge 
in  useless  regrets  and  fruitless  dreaming. 

As  time  wore  on,  and  his  father  became  older 
and  frailer,  Ivan's  visits  to  his  native  place  became 
longer  and  more  frequent,  and  when  the  old  man 
was  at  last  incapable  of  work,  Ivan  settled  down 
permanently  and  undertook  the  direction  of  the 
household.  In  the  meantime  his  own  children  had 
been  growing  up.  When  I  knew  the  family  it  com- 
prised —  besides  two  daughters  who  had  married 
early  and  gone  to  live  with  their  parents-in-law  — 
Ivan  and  his  wife,  two  sons,  three  daughters-in-law, 
and  an  indefinite  and  frequently  varying  number 
of  grandchildren.  The  fact  that  there  were  three 
daughters-in-law  and  only  two  sons  was  the  result 
of  the  Conscription,  which  had  taken  away  the 
youngest  son  shortly  after  his  marriage.  The  two 
who  remainded  spent  only  a  small  part  of  the  year 

115 


RUSSIA 

at  home.  The  one  was  a  carpenter  and  the  other 
a  bricklayer,  and  both  wandered  about  the  country 
in  search  of  employment  as  their  father  had  done 
in  his  younger  days.  There  was,  however,  one  dif- 
ference. The  father  had  always  shown  a  leaning 
towards  commercial  transactions,  rather  than  the 
simple  practice  of  his  handicraft,  and  consequently 
he  had  usually  lived  and  travelled  alone.  The  sons, 
on  the  contrary,  confined  themselves  to  their  handi- 
crafts, and  were  always  during  the  working  season 
members  of  artels. 

The  artel  in  its  various  forms  is  a  curious  institu- 
tion. Those  to  which  Ivan's  sons  belonged  were 
simply  temporary,  itinerant  associations  of  work- 
men, who  during  the  summer  lived  together,  fed 
together,  worked  together,  and  on  the  termination 
of  each  bit  of  work  divided  amongst  themselves  the 
profits.  This  is  the  primitive  form  of  the  institu- 
tion, and  is  now  not  very  often  met  with.  Here,  as 
elsewhere,  capital  has  made  itself  felt,  and  destroyed 
that  equality  which  exists  among  the  members  of 
an  artel  in  the  above  sense  of  the  word.  Instead 
of  forming  themselves  into  a  temporary  association, 
the  workmen  now  generally  make  an  engagement 
with  a  contractor  who  has  a  little  capital  and  receive 
from  him  fixed  monthly  wages.  According  to  this 
arrangement  the  risk  is  less  and  the  wages  are 
smaller,  and  if  any  exceptional  profit  accrues  from 
the  undertaking  it  goes  into  the  pocket  of  the  con- 
tractor, in  compensation  for  the  exceptional  losses 
which  he  may  have  to  bear.     The  only  association 

116 


A    PEASANT    FAMILY 

which  exists  in  this  case  is  for  the  purchase  and 
preparation  of  provisions,  and  even  these  duties 
are  very  often  left  to  the  contractor. 

In  some  of  the  larger  towns  there  are  artels  of  a 
much  more  complex  kind  —  permanent  associations, 
possessing  a  large  capital,  and  pecuniarily  responsible 
for  the  acts  of  the  individual  members.  Of  these, 
by  far  the  most  celebrated  is  that  of  the  Bank 
Porters.  These  men  have  unlimited  opportunities 
of  stealing,  and  are  often  entrusted  with  the  guard- 
ing or  transporting  of  enormous  sums;  but  the 
banker  has  no  cause  for  anxiety,  because  he  knows 
that  if  any  defalcations  occur  they  will  be  made 
good  to  him  by  the  artel.  Such  accidents,  how- 
ever, rarely  if  ever  happen,  and  the  fact  is  by  no 
means  so  extraordinary  as  many  people  suppose. 
The  artel,  being  responsible  for  the  individuals  of 
which  it  is  composed,  is  very  careful  in  admitting 
new  members,  and  a  man  when  admitted  is  closely 
watched,  not  only  by  the  regularly  constituted 
office-bearers,  but  also  by  all  his  fellow-members 
who  have  an  opportunity  of  observing  him.  If  he 
begins  to  spend  money  too  freely  or  to  neglect  his 
duties,  though  his  employer  may  know  nothing  of 
the  fact,  suspicions  are  at  once  aroused  among  his 
fellow-members,  and  an  investigation  ensues  —  end- 
ing in  summary  expulsion  if  the  suspicions  prove 
to  have  been  well-founded.  Mutual  responsibility, 
in  short,  creates  naturally  a  very  effective  system 
of  mutual  supervision.  Might  not  some  of  our 
employers  of  labour,  who  complain  loudly  of  the 

117 


RUSSIA 

carelessness  and  dishonesty  of  their  servants,  make 
some  practical  use  of  this  principle? 

Of  Ivan's  two  sons,  the  one  who  was  a  carpen- 
ter by  trade  visited  his  family  only  occasionally, 
and  at  irregular  intervals;  the  other,  on  the  con- 
trary, as  building  is  impossible  in  Russia  during 
the  cold  weather,  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  win- 
ter at  home.  Both  of  them  paid  a  large  part  of 
their  earnings  into  the  family  treasury,  over  which 
their  father  exercised  uncontrolled  authority.  If  he 
wished  to  make  any  considerable  outlay,  he  always 
consulted  his  sons  on  the  subject,  but  as  he  was  a 
prudent,  intelligent  man,  and  enjoyed  the  respect 
and  confidence  of  the  family,  he  never  met  with 
any  decided  opposition.  All  the  field  work  was  per- 
formed by  him  with  the  assistance  of  his  daughters- 
in-law;  only  at  harvest  time  he  hired  one  or  two 
labourers  to  help  him. 

Ivan's  household  was  a  good  specimen  of  the 
Russian  peasant  family  of  the  old  type.  Previ- 
ous to  the  Emancipation  in  1861  there  were  many 
households  of  this  kind,  containing  the  representa- 
tives of  three  generations.  All  the  members,  young 
and  old,  lived  together  in  patriarchal  fashion  under 
the  direction  and  authority  of  the  Head  of  the 
House,  called  usually  Khozain,  that  is  to  say,  the 
Administrator;  or,  in  some  districts,  Bolshdk,  which 
means  literally  "the  Big  One."  Generally  speak- 
ing, this  important  position  was  occupied  by  the 
grandfather,  or,  if  he  was  dead,  by  the  eldest 
brother,   but   this   rule  was   not  very   strictly   ob- 

118 


A    PEASANT    FAMILY 

served.  If,  for  instance,  the  grandfather  became 
infirm,  or  if  the  eldest  brother  was  incapacitated 
by  disorderly  habits  or  other  cause,  the  place  of 
authority  was  taken  by  some  other  member  —  it 
might  be  by  a  woman  —  who  was  a  good  manager 
and  possessed  the  greatest  moral  influence.  The  re- 
lations between  the  Head  of  the  Household  and  the 
other  members  depended  on  custom  and  personal 
character,  and  they  consequently  varied  greatly  in 
different  families.  If  the  Big  One  was  an  intelli- 
gent man,  of  decided,  energetic  character,  like  my 
friend  Ivan,  there  was  probably  perfect  discipline  in 
the  house,  except  perhaps  in  the  matter  of  female 
tongues,  which  do  not  readily  submit  to  the  author- 
ity even  of  their  owners;  but  very  often  it  hap- 
pened that  the  Big  One  was  not  thoroughly  well 
fitted  for  his  post,  and  in  that  case  endless  quarrels 
and  bickerings  inevitably  took  place.  Those  quar- 
rels were  generally  caused  and  fomented  by  the 
female  members  of  the  household  —  a  fact  which 
will  not  seem  strange  if  we  try  to  realise  how 
difficult  it  must  be  for  several  sisters-in-law  to 
live  together,  with  their  children  and  a  mother-in- 
law,  within  the  narrow  limits  of  a  peasant's  house. 
The  complaints  of  the  young  bride,  who  finds  that 
her  mother-in-law  puts  all  the  hard  work  on  her 
shoulders,  form  a  favourite  motive  in  the  popular 
poetry. 

The  house,  with  its  appurtenances,  the  cattle, 
the  agricultural  implements,  the  grain  and  other 
products,  the  money  gained  from  the  sale  of  these 

119 


RUSSIA 

products  —  in  a  word,  the  house  and  nearly  every- 
thing it  contained  —  was  the  joint-property  of  the 
family.  Hence,  nothing  was  bought  or  sold  by  any 
member  —  not  even  by  the  Big  One  himself,  unless 
he  possessed  an  unusual  amount  of  authority  — 
without  the  express  or  tacit  consent  of  the  other 
grown-up  males,  and  all  the  money  that  was  earned 
was  put  into  the  common  purse.  When  one  of  the 
sons  left  home  to  work  elsewhere,  he  was  expected 
to  bring  or  send  home  all  his  earnings,  except  what 
he  required  for  food,  lodgings,  and  other  necessary 
expenses;  and  if  he  understood  the  word  *' necessary '* 
in  too  lax  a  sense,  he  had  to  listen  to  very  plain- 
spoken  reproaches  when  he  returned.  During  his 
absence,  which  might  last  for  a  whole  year  or  several 
years,  his  wife  and  children  remained  in  the  house 
as  before,  and  the  money  which  he  earned  was  prob- 
ably devoted  to  the  payment  of  the  family  taxes. 

The  peasant  household  ot  the  old  type  is  thus  a 
primitive  labour  association,  of  which  the  members 
have  all  things  in  common,  and  it  is  not  a  little 
remarkable  that  the  peasant  conceives  it  as  such 
rather  than  as  a  family.  This  is  shown  by  the  cus- 
tomary terminology  and  by  the  law  of  inheritance. 
The  Head  of  the  Household  is  not  called  by  any 
word  corresponding  to  Paterfamilias,  but  is  termed, 
as  I  have  said,  Kliozain,  or  Administrator  —  a  word 
that  is  applied  equally  to  a  farmer,  a  shopkeeper, 
or  the  head  of  an  industrial  undertaking,  and  does 
not  at  all  convey  the  idea  of  blood-relationship. 

The  law  of  inheritance  is  likewise  based  on  this 

120 


A    PEASANT    FAMILY 

conception.     When  a  household  is   broken  up,  the 
degree  of  blood-relationship  is  not  taken  into  con- 
sideration in  the  distribution  of  the  property.     All 
the  adult  male  members  share  equally.     Illegitimate 
and  adopted  sons,  if  they  have  contributed  their 
share  of  labour,  have  the  same  rights  as  the  sons 
born   in   lawful   wedlock.     The   married   daughter, 
on  the  contrary  —  being  regarded  as  belonging  to 
her  husband's  family  —  and  the  son  who  has  previ- 
ously separated  himself  from  the  household,  are  ex- 
cluded from  the  succession.    Strictly  speaking  there 
is   no   succession   or   inheritance   whatever,   except 
as  regards  the  wearing  apparel  and  any  little  per- 
sonal effects  of  a  similar  kind.     The  house  and  all 
that  it  contains  belong,  not  to  the  Khozain,  but 
to    the    little    household    community;   and,    conse- 
quently when  the   Khozain  dies  and   the  commu- 
nity is  broken  up,  the  members  do  not  inherit,  but 
merely  appropriate  individually  what  they  had  hith- 
erto possessed  collectively.     Thus  there  is  properly 
no  inheritance  or  succession,  but  simply  liquidation 
and  distribution  of  the  property  among  the  mem- 
bers.    The  written  law  of  inheritance,  founded  on 
the  conception  of  personal  property,   is  quite  un- 
known to  the  peasantry,  and  quite  inapplicable  to 
their  mode  of  life.     In  this  way  a  large  and  most 
important  section  of  the  Code  remains  a  dead  letter 
for  about  four-fifths  of  the  population! 

This  predominance  of  practical  economic  con- 
siderations is  likewise  exemplified  by  the  way  in 
which  marriages  are  arranged  in  these  large  families. 

121 


RUSSIA 

In  all  respects  the  Russian  peasantry  are,  as  a 
class,  extremely  practical  and  matter-of-fact  in  their 
conceptions  and  habits,  and  are  not  at  all  prone 
to  indulge  in  sublime,  ethereal  sentiments  of  any 
kind.  They  have  little  or  nothing  of  what  may  be 
roughly  termed  the  Hermann-and-Dorothea  ele- 
ment in  their  composition,  and  consequently  they 
know  very  little  about  those  sentimental,  romantic 
ideas  which  we  habitually  associate  with  the  pre- 
liminary steps  to  matrimony.  This  fact  is  so  patent 
to  all  who  have  studied  the  Russian  peasantry  that 
even  those  who  have  endeavoured  to  idealise  peasant 
life  have  rarely  ventured  to  make  their  story  turn  on 
a  sentimental  love  affair.  These  general  remarks 
I  insert  here  parenthetically,  in  order  that  the  reader 
may  more  clearly  understand  what  I  have  to  say 
regarding  peasant  marriages. 

In  the  primitive  system  of  agriculture  usually 
practised  in  Russia,  the  natural  labour-unit  —  if  it 
be  allowed  to  use  such  a  term  —  comprises  a  man, 
a  woman,  and  a  horse.  As  soon,  therefore,  as  a 
boy  becomes  an  able-bodied  labourer  he  ought  to  be 
provided  with  the  two  accessories  necessary  for  the 
completion  of  the  labour-unit.  To  procure  a  horse, 
whether  by  purchase  or  by  rearing  a  foal,  is  the 
duty  of  the  Head  of  the  House;  to  procure  a  wife 
for  the  youth  is  the  duty  of  "the  female  Big  One" 
(bolshukha).  And  the  chief  consideration  in  deter- 
mining the  choice  is  in  both  cases  the  same.  Pru- 
dent domestic  administrators  are  not  to  be  tempted 
by   showy  horses   or   beautiful   brides;    what   they 

122 


A    PEASANT    FAMILY 

seek  is  not  beauty,  but  physical  strength  and  capa- 
city for  work.  When  the  youth  reaches  the  age  of 
eighteen  he  is  informed  that  he  ought  to  marry  at 
once,  and  as  soon  as  he  gives  his  consent  negotia- 
tions are  opened  with  the  parents  of  some  ehgible 
young  person.  In  the  larger  villages  the  negotia- 
tions are  sometimes  facilitated  by  certain  old  women 
called  svakhi,  who  occupy  themselves  specially  with 
this  kind  of  mediation;  but  very  often  the  affair 
is  arranged  directly  by,  or  through  the  agency  of, 
some  common  friend  of  the  two  houses.  Care  must 
of  course  be  taken  that  there  is  no  legal  obstacle  to 
the  marriage,  and  these  obstacles  are  not  always 
easily  avoided  in  a  small  village,  the  inhabitants  of 
which  have  been  long  in  the  habit  of  intermarrying. 
According  to  Russian  ecclesiastical  law,  not  only  is 
marriage  between  first-cousins  illegal,  but  affinity  is 
considered  as  equivalent  to  consanguinity  —  that 
is  to  say,  a  mother-in-law  and  a  sister-in-law  are 
regarded  as  a  mother  and  a  sister  —  and  even  the 
fictitious  relationship  created  by  standing  together 
at  the  baptismal  font  as  godfather  and  godmother 
is  legally  recognised.  If  all  the  preliminary  nego- 
tiations are  successful,  the  marriage  takes  place, 
and  the  bridegroom  brings  his  bride  home  to  the 
house  of  which  he  is  a  member.  She  brings  noth- 
ing with  her  as  a  dowry  except  her  trousseau,  but 
she  brings  a  pair  of  good  strong  arms,  and  thereby 
enriches  her  adopted  family.  Of  course  it  happens 
occasionally  —  for  human  nature  is  everywhere 
essentially  the  same  —  that  a  young  peasant  falls 

123 


RUSSIA 

in  love  with  one  of  his  former  playmates,  and 
brings  his  little  romance  to  a  happy  conclusion 
at  the  altar;  but  such  cases  are  very  rare,  and  as 
a  rule  it  may  be  said  that  the  marriages  of  the 
Russian  peasantry  are  arranged  under  the  influ- 
ence of  economic  rather  than  sentimental  consid- 
erations. 

The  custom  of  living  in  large  families  has  many 
decided  economic  advantages.  We  all  know  the 
edifying  fable  of  the  dying  man  who  showed  to  his 
sons  by  means  of  a  piece  of  wicker-work  the  advan- 
tages of  living  together  and  mutually  assisting  each 
other.  In  ordinary  times  the  necessary  expenses  of 
a  large  household  of  ten  members  are  considerably 
less  than  the  combined  expenses  of  two  households 
comprising  five  members  each,  and  when  a  "black 
day"  comes,  a  large  family  can  bear  temporary 
adversity  much  more  successfully  than  a  small  one. 
These  are  principles  of  world-wide  application,  and 
in  the  life  of  the  Russian  peasantry  they  have  a 
peculiar  force.  Each  adult  peasant  possesses,  as  I 
shall  hereafter  explain,  a  share  of  the  Communal 
land,  but  this  share  is  not  suflScient  to  occupy  all 
his  time  and  working  power.  One  married  pair  can 
easily  cultivate  two  shares  —  at  least  in  all  provinces 
where  land  is  not  very  abundant.  Now  if  a  family 
is  composed  of  two  married  couples,  one  of  the  men 
can  go  elsewhere  and  earn  money,  whilst  the  other, 
with  his  wife  and  sister-in-law,  can  cultivate  the 
two  combined  shares  of  land.  If,  on  the  contrary, 
a   family   consists   merely   of  one  pair   with   their 

124 


A    PEASANT    FAMILY 

children,  the  man  must  either  remain  at  home, 
in  which  case  he  may  have  difficulty  in  finding 
work  for  the  whole  of  his  time,  or  he  must  leave 
home,  and  entrust  the  cultivation  of  his  share  of 
the  land  to  his  wife,  whose  time  must  be  in  great 
part  devoted  to  domestic  affairs. 

In  the  time  of  serfage  the  proprietors  clearly  per- 
ceived these  and  similar  advantages,  and  compelled 
their  serfs  to  live  together  in  large  families.  No 
family  could  be  broken  up  without  the  proprietor's 
consent,  and  this  consent  was  not  easily  obtained 
unless  the  family  had  assumed  quite  abnormal  pro- 
portions, and  was  permanently  disturbed  by  domes- 
tic dissension.  In  the  matrimonial  affairs  of  the 
serfs,  too,  the  majority  of  the  proprietors  system- 
atically exercised  a  certain  supervision,  not  neces- 
sarily from  any  paltry,  meddling  spirit,  but  because 
their  material  interests  were  thereby  affected.  A 
proprietor  would  not,  for  instance,  allow  the  daugh- 
ter of  one  of  his  serfs  to  marry  a  serf  belonging 
to  another  proprietor  —  because  he  would  thereby 
lose  a  female  labourer  —  unless  some  compensation 
were  offered.  The  compensation  might  be  a  sum 
of  money,  or  the  affair  might  be  arranged  on  the 
principle  of  reciprocity,  by  the  master  of  the  bride- 
groom allowing  one  of  his  female  serfs  to  marry  a 
serf  belonging  to  the  master  of  the  bride. 

However  advantageous  the  custom  of  living  in 
large  families  may  appear  when  regarded  from  the 
economic  point  of  view,  it  has  very  serious  defects, 
both  theoretical  and  practical. 

U5 


RUSSIA 

That  families  connected  by  the  ties  of  blood- 
relationship  and  marriage  can  easily  live  together  in 
harmony  is  one  of  those  social  axioms  which  are 
accepted  universally  and  believed  by  nobody.  We 
all  know  by  our  own  experience,  or  by  that  of  others, 
that  the  friendly  relations  of  two  such  families  are 
greatly  endangered  by  proximity  of  habitation.  To 
live  in  the  same  street  is  not  advisable;  to  occupy 
adjoining  houses  is  positively  dangerous;  and  to  live 
under  the  same  roof  is  certainly  fatal  to  prolonged 
amity.  There  may  be  the  very  best  intentions  on 
both  sides,  and  the  arrangement  may  be  inaugurated 
by  the  most  gushing  expressions  of  undying  affection 
and  by  the  discovery  of  innumerable  secret  aflSnities, 
but  neither  affinities,  affection,  nor  good  intentions 
can  withstand  the  constant  friction  and  occasional 
jerks  which  inevitably  ensue.  Now  the  reader  must 
endeavour  to  realise  that  Russian  peasants,  even 
when  clad  in  sheep-skins,  are  human  beings  like 
ourselves.  Though  they  are  often  represented  as 
abstract  entities  —  as  figures  in  a  table  of  statistics 
or  dots  on  a  diagram  —  they  have  in  reality  "organs, 
dimensions,  senses,  affections,  passions."  If  not 
exactly  "fed  with  the  same  food,"  they  are  at  least 
"hurt  with  the  same  weapons,  subject  to  the  same 
diseases,  healed  by  the  same  means,"  and  liable  to 
be  irritated  by  the  same  annoyances  as  we  are. 
And  those  of  them  who  live  in  large  families  are 
subjected  to  a  kind  of  probation  that  most  of  us 
have  never  dreamed  of.  The  families  comprising 
a  large  household  not  only  live  together,  but  have 

126 


A    PEASANT    FAMILY 

nearly  all  things  in  common.  Each  member  works, 
not  for  himself,  but  for  the  household,  and  all  that 
he  earns  is  expected  to  go  into  the  family  treasury. 
The  arrangement  almost  inevitably  leads  to  one  of 
two  results  —  either  there  are  continual  dissensions, 
or  order  is  preserved  by  a  powerful  domestic  tyranny 
infinitely  worse  than  serfage. 


127 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  PEASANTRY  OF  THE  NORTH 

IVANOFKA  may  be  taken  as  a  fair  specimen  of 
the  villages  in  the  northern  half  of  the  country, 
and  a  brief  description  of  its  inhabitants  will 
convey  a  tolerably  correct  notion  of  the  northern 
peasantry  in  general. 

Nearly  the  whole  of  the  female  population,  and 
about  one-half  of  the  male  inhabitants,  are  habitually 
engaged  in  cultivating  the  Communal  land,  which 
comprises  about  two  thousand  acres  of  a  light  sandy 
soil.  The  arable  part  of  this  land  is  divided  into 
three  large  fields,  each  of  which  is  cut  up  into  long 
narrow  strips.  The  first  field  is  reserved  for  the 
winter  grain  —  that  is  to  say,  rye,  which  forms,  in 
the  shape  of  black  bread,  the  principal  food  of  the 
peasantry.  In  the  second  are  raised  oats  for  the 
horses,  and  buckwheat,  which  is  largely  used  for 
food.  The  third  lies  fallow,  and  is  used  in  the 
summer  as  pasturage  for  the  cattle. 

All  the  villagers  in  this  part  of  the  country  divide 
the  arable  land  in  this  way,  in  order  to  suit  the 
triennial  rotation  of  crops.  This  triennial  system 
is  extremely  simple.  The  field  which  is  used  this 
year  for  raising  winter  grain  will  be  used  next  year 

128 


PEASANTRY    OF    THE    NORTH 

for  raising  summer  grain,  and  in  the  following  year 
will  lie  fallow.  Before  being  sown  with  winter 
grain  it  ought  to  receive  a  certain  amount  of  manure. 
Every  family  possesses  in  each  of  the  two  fields 
under  cultivation  one  or  more  of  the  long  narrow 
strips  or  belts  into  which  they  are  divided. 

The  annual  life  of  the  peasantry  is  that  of  simple 
husbandmen,  inhabiting  a  country  where  the  winter 
is  long  and  severe.  The  agricultural  year  begins 
in  April  with  the  melting  of  the  snow.  Nature  has 
been  lying  dormant  for  some  months.  Awaking 
now  from  her  long  sleep,  and  throwing  off  her  white 
mantle,  she  strives  to  make  up  for  lost  time.  No 
sooner  has  the  snow  disappeared  than  the  fresh  young 
grass  begins  to  shoot  up,  and  very  soon  afterwards 
the  shrubs  and  trees  begin  to  bud.  The  rapidity 
of  this  transition  from  winter  to  spring  astonishes 
the  inhabitants  of  more  temperate  climes. 

On  St.  George's  Day  (April  23rd  0  the  cattle  are 
brought  out  for  the  first  time,  and  sprinkled  with 
holy  water  by  the  priest.  The  cattle  of  the  Rus- 
sian peasantry  are  never  very  fat,  but  at  this  period 
of  the  year  their  appearance  is  truly  lamentable. 
During  the  winter  they  have  been  cooped  up  in  small 
unventilated  cow-houses,  and  fed  almost  exclusively 
on  straw;  now,  when  they  are  released  from  their 
imprisonment,  they  look  like  the  ghosts  of  their 
former  emaciated  selves.     All  are  lean  and  weak. 

With  regard  to  saints'  days,  I  alwaj's  give  the  date  according  to  the  old 
style.  To  find  the  date  according  to  our  calendar,  twelve  days  must  be 
added. 

RCSSU    I  —  9  129 


RUSSIA 

many  are  lame,  and  some  cannot  rise  to  their  feet 
without  assistance. 

Meanwhile  the  peasants  are  impatient  to  begin 
the  field  labour.  An  old  proverb  which  they  all 
know  says:  "Sow  in  mud  and  you  will  be  a  prince;'* 
and  they  ahvays  act  in  accordance  with  this  dictate 
of  traditional  wisdom.  As  soon  as  it  is  possible  to 
plough  they  begin  to  prepare  the  land  for  the  summer 
grain,  and  this  labour  occupies  them  probably  till 
the  end  of  May.  Then  comes  the  work  of  carting 
out  manure  and  preparing  the  fallow  field  for  the 
winter  grain,  which  will  last  probably  till  about 
St.  Peter's  Day  (June  29th),  when  the  hay-making 
generally  begins.  After  the  hay-making  comes  the 
harvest,  by  far  the  busiest  time  of  the  year.  From 
the  middle  of  July  —  especially  from  St.  Elijah's 
Day  (July  20th),  when  the  saint  is  usually  heard 
rumbling  along  the  heavens  in  his  chariot  of  fire  ^  — 
until  the  end  of  August,  the  peasant  may  work  day 
and  night,  and  yet  he  will  find  that  he  has  barely 
time  to  get  all  his  work  done.  In  little  more  than 
a  month  he  has  to  reap  and  stack  his  grain  —  rye, 
oats,  and  whatever  else  he  may  have  sown  either 
in  spring  or  in  the  preceding  autumn  —  and  to  sow 
the  winter  grain  for  next  year.  To  add  to  his  trou- 
bles, it  sometimes  happens  that  the  rye  and  the  oats 
ripen  almost  sinuiltaneously,  and  his  position  is  then 
still  more  difficult  than  usual. 

Whether  the  seasons  favour  him  or  not,  the  peas- 

'  It  is  thua  that  the  peasants  explain  the  thunder,  which  is  often  heard 
at  that  season. 

130 


PEASANTRY    OF    THE    NORTH 

ant  has  at  this  time  a  hard  task,  for  he  can  rarely 
afford  to  hire  the  requisite  number  of  labourers, 
and  has  generally  the  assistance  merely  of  his  wife 
and  family;  but  he  can  at  this  season  work  for  a 
short  time  at  high  pressure,  for  he  has  the  prospect 
of  soon  obtaining  a  good  rest  and  an  abundance  of 
food.  About  the  end  of  September  the  field  labour 
is  finished,  and  on  the  first  day  of  October  the  harvest 
festival  begins  —  a  joyous  season,  during  which  the 
parish  fetes  are  commonly  celebrated. 

To  celebrate  a  parish  fete  in  true  orthodox  fashion 
it  is  necessary  to  prepare  beforehand  a  large  quan- 
'tity  of  hraga  —  a  kind  of  home-brewed  small  beer 
—  and  to  bake  a  plentiful  supply  of  piroghi  or  pies. 
Oil,  too,  has  to  be  procured,  and  vodka  (rye  spirit) 
in  goodly  quantity.  At  the  same  time  the  big  room 
of  the  izba,  as  the  peasant's  house  is  called,  has  to 
be  cleared,  the  floor  washed,  and  the  table  and 
benches  scrubbed.  The  evening  before  the  fete, 
while  the  piroghi  are  being  baked,  a  little  lamp 
burns  before  the  Icon  in  the  corner  of  the  room, 
and  perhaps  one  or  two  guests  from  a  distance  arrive 
in  order  that  they  may  have  on  the  morrow  a  full 
day's  enjoyment. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fete  the  proceedings  begin 
by  a  long  service  in  the  church,  at  which  all  the 
inhabitants  are  present  in  their  best  holiday  cos- 
tumes except  those  matrons  and  young  women  who 
remain  at  home  to  prepare  the  dinner.  About  mid- 
day dinner  is  served  in  each  izba  for  the  family  and 
their  friends.    In  general  the  Russian  peasant's  fare 

131 


RUSSIA 

is  of  the  simplest  kind,  and  rarely  comprises  animal 
food  of  any  sort  —  not  from  any  vegetarian  proclivi- 
ties, but  merely  because  beef,  mutton,  and  pork 
are  too  expensive;  but  on  a  holiday,  such  as  a 
parish  fete,  there  is  always  on  the  dinner-table 
a  considerable  variety  of  dishes.  In  the  house  of  a 
well-to-do  peasant  there  will  be  not  only  greasy 
cabbage-soup  and  kasha  —  a  dish  made  from  buck- 
wheat—  but  also  pork,  mutton,  and  perhaps  even 
beef.  Braga  will  be  supplied  in  unlimited  quanti- 
ties, and  more  than  once  vodka  will  be  handed 
round.  When  the  repast  is  finished,  all  rise  together, 
and,  turning  towards  the  Icon  in  the  corner,  bow 
and  cross  themselves  repeatedly.  The  guests  then 
say  to  their  host,  "Spasibo  za  khleb  za  soV  —  that 
is  to  say,  *' Thanks  for  your  hospitality,"  or  more 
literally,  *' Thanks  for  bread  and  salt;"  and  the 
host  replies,  "Do  not  be  displeased,  sit  down  once 
more  for  good  luck"  —  or  perhaps  he  puts  the  last 
part  of  his  request  into  the  form  of  a  rhyming 
couplet  to  the  following  effect:  "Sit  down,  that  the 
hens  may  brood,  and  that  the  chickens  and  bees 
may  multiply!"  All  obey  this  request,  and  there  is 
another  round  of  vodka. 

After  dinner  some  stroll  about,  chatting  with 
their  friends,  or  go  to  sleep  in  some  shady  nook, 
whilst  those  who  wish  to  make  merry  go  to  the 
spot  where  the  young  people  are  singing,  playing, 
and  amusing  themselves  in  various  ways.  As  the 
sun  sinks  towards  the  horizon,  the  more  grave, 
staid  guests  wend  their  way  homewards,  but  many 

132 


PEASANTRY    OF    THE    NORTH 

remain  for  supper;  and  as  evening  advances  the 
effects  of  the  vodka  become  more  and  more  appar- 
ent. Sounds  of  revelry  are  heard  more  frequently 
from  the  houses,  and  a  large  proportion  of  the 
inhabitants  and  guests  appear  on  the  road  in  vari- 
ous degrees  of  intoxication.  Some  of  these  vow 
eternal  affection  to  their  friends,  or  with  flaccid 
gestures  and  in  incoherent  tones  harangue  invisible 
audiences;  others  stagger  about  aimlessly  in  besotted 
self-contentment,  till  they  drop  down  in  a  state  of 
complete  unconsciousness.  There  they  will  lie  tran- 
quilly till  they  are  picked  up  by  their  less  intoxi- 
cated friends,  or  more  probably  till  they  awake  of 
their  own  accord  on  the  next  morning. 

As  a  whole,  a  village  fete  in  Russia  is  one  of  the 
most  saddening  spectacles  I  have  ever  witnessed. 
It  affords  a  new  proof  —  where,  alas !  no  new  proof 
was  required  —  that  we  northern  nations,  who 
know  so  well  how  to  work,  are  utterly  incapable 
of  amusing  ourselves.  In  France  or  Italy  a  popular 
holiday  is  a  pleasing  sight,  and  may  easily  make  us 
regret  that  life  has  so  few  holidays.  Not  only  in 
the  morning,  but  also  in  the  evening,  after  a  long 
day,  there  is  a  bright,  joyous  expression  on  every 
face,  and  a  hum  of  genuine  merriment  rises  continu- 
ally from  the  crowd.  In  northern  countries,  on 
the  contrary,  the  people  do  not  know  how  to  enjoy 
themselves  in  a  harmless,  rational  way,  and  seek  a 
refuge  in  intoxication,  so  that  the  sight  of  a  popular 
holiday  may  make  us  regret  that  life  has  any  holi- 
days at  all. 

133 


RUSSIA 

If  the  Russian  peasant's  food  were  always  as 
good  and  plentiful  as  at  this  season  of  the  year, 
he  would  have  little  reason  to  complain;  but  this  is 
by  no  means  the  case.  Gradually,  as  the  harvest- 
time  recedes,  it  deteriorates  in  quality,  and  some- 
times diminishes  in  quantity.  Besides  this,  during 
a  great  part  of  the  year  the  peasant  is  prevented 
from  using  much  that  he  possesses  by  the  rules  of 
the  Church. 

In  southern  climes,  where  these  rules  were  elabo- 
rated and  first  practised,  the  prescribed  fasts  are 
perhaps  useful  not  only  in  a  religious,  but  also  in 
a  sanitary  sense.  Having  abundance  of  fruit  and 
vegetables,  the  inhabitants  do  well,  perhaps,  in 
abstaining  occasionally  from  animal  food.  But  in 
countries  like  Northern  and  Central  Russia,  the 
influence  of  these  rules  is  very  different.  The  Rus- 
sian peasant  cannot  obtain  as  much  animal  food  as 
he  requires,  whilst  sour  cabbage  and  cucumbers 
are  probably  the  only  vegetables  he  can  procure, 
and  fruit  of  any  kind  is  for  him  an  unattainable 
luxury.  Under  these  circumstances,  abstinence  from 
eggs  and  milk  in  all  their  forms  during  several 
months  of  the  year  seems  to  the  secular  mind  a 
superfluous  bit  of  asceticism.  If  the  Church  would 
direct  her  maternal  solicitude  to  the  peasant's  drink- 
ing, and  leave  him  to  eat  what  he  pleases,  she 
might  exercise  a  l)eneficial  influence  on  his  ma- 
terial and  moral  welfare.  Unfortunately  she  has 
a  great  deal  too  much  inherent  immobility  to  do 
anything  of  the  kind,  and  there  is   no   reasonable 

134 


PEASANTRY    OF    THE    NORTH 

probability  of  her  ever  arriving  at  the  simple  truth, 
for  which  there  is  very  high  authority,  that  rules 
and  ordinances  were  made  for  man,  and  not  man  for 
the  rules  and  ordinances.  Meanwhile  the  Russian 
peasant  must  fast  during  the  seven  weeks  of  Lent, 
during  two  or  three  weeks  in  June,  from  the  beginning 
of  November  till  Christmas,  and  on  all  Wednesdays 
and  Fridays  during  the  remainder  of  the  year. 

From  the  festival  time  till  the  following  spring 
there  is  no  possibility  of  doing  any  agricultural 
work,  for  the  ground  is  hard  as  iron,  and  covered 
with  a  deep  layer  of  snow.  The  male  peasants, 
therefore,  who  remain  in  the  villages,  have  very 
little  to  do,  and  may  spend  the  greater  part  of  their 
time  in  lying  idly  on  the  stove,  unless  they  happen 
to  have  learned  some  handicraft  that  can  be  practised 
at  home.  Formerly,  many  of  them  were  employed 
in  transporting  the  grain  to  the  market  town,  which 
might  be  several  hundred  miles  distant;  but  now 
this  species  of  occupation  has  been  greatly  dimin- 
ished by  the  extension  of  railways. 

Another  winter  occupation  which  was  formerly 
practised,  and  has  now  almost  fallen  into  disuse, 
was  that  of  stealing  wood  in  the  forest.  This  was, 
according  to  peasant  morality,  no  sin,  or  at  most  a 
very  venial  offence,  for  God  planted  and  watered 
the  trees,  and  therefore  forests  belong  properly  to 
no  one.  So  thought  the  peasantry,  but  the  landed 
proprietors  and  the  Administration  of  the  Demesnes 
held  a  different  theory  of  property,  and  conse- 
quently precautions  had  to  be  taken  to  avoid  detec- 

135 


RUSSIA 

tion.  In  order  to  ensure  success  it  was  necessary 
to  choose  a  night  when  there  was  a  violent  snow- 
storm, which  would  immediately  obliterate  all  traces 
of  the  expedition;  and  when  such  a  night  was  found, 
the  operation  was  commonly  performed  with  success. 
During  the  hours  of  darkness  a  tree  would  be  felled, 
stripped  of  its  branches,  dragged  into  the  village, 
and  cut  up  into  firewood,  and  at  sunrise  the  actors 
would  be  tranquilly  sleeping  on  the  stove  as  if  they 
had  spent  the  night  at  home.  In  recent  years  the 
justices  of  the  peace  have  done  much  towards  putting 
down  this  practice  and  eradicating  the  loose  concep- 
tions of  property  with  which  it  was  connected. 

For  the  female  part  of  the  population  winter  is 
a  busy  time,  for  it  is  during  these  four  or  five  months 
that  the  spinning  and  weaving  have  to  be  done. 

In  many  of  the  northern  villages  the  tedium  of 
the  long  winter  evenings  is  relieved  by  so-called 
Besyedy,  a  word  which  signifies  literally  conversa- 
zioni. A  Besyeda,  however,  is  not  exactly  a  con- 
versazione as  we  understand  the  term,  but  resembles 
rather  what  is  by  some  ladies  called  a  Dorcas  meet- 
ing, with  this  essential  difference,  that  those  pres- 
ent work  for  themselves  and  not  for  any  benevolent 
purpose.  In  some  villages  as  many  as  three  Besyedy 
regularly  assemble  about  sunset:  one  for  the  chil- 
dren, the  second  for  the  young  people,  and  the  third 
for  the  matrons.  Each  of  the  three  has  its  peculiar 
character.  In  the  first,  the  children  work  and  amuse 
themselves  under  the  superintendence  of  an  old 
woman,   who   trims   the   torch   and  endeavours   to 

136 


PEASANTRY    OF    THE    NORTH 

keep  order.  The  little  girls  spin  flax  in  a  primitive 
way  without  the  aid  of  a  "jenny,"  and  the  boys, 
who  are,  on  the  whole,  much  less  industrious,  make 
lapti  —  rude  shoes  of  plaited  bark  —  or  simple  bits 
of  wicker-work.  These  occupations  do  not  prevent 
an  almost  incessant  hum  of  talk,  frequent  discordant 
attempts  to  sing  in  chorus,  and  occasional  quarrels 
requiring  the  energetic  interference  of  the  old  woman 
who  sits  by  the  torch.  To  amuse  her  noisy  flock 
she  sometimes  relates  to  them,  for  the  hundredth 
time,  one  of  those  wonderful  old  stories  that  lose 
nothing  by  repetition,  and  all  listen  to  her  atten- 
tively as  if  they  had  never  heard  the  story  before. 
The  second  Besyeda  is  held  in  another  house  by  the 
young  people  of  a  riper  age.  Here  the  workers  are 
naturally  more  staid,  less  given  to  quarrelling,  sing 
more  in  harmony,  and  require  no  one  to  look  after 
them.  Some  people,  however,  might  think  that  a 
chaperon  or  inspector  of  some  kind  would  be  by  no 
means  out  of  place,  for  a  good  deal  of  flirtation  goes 
on,  and,  if  village  scandal  is  to  be  trusted,  strict 
propriety  in  thought,  word,  and  deed  is  not  always 
observed.  How  far  these  reports  are  true  I  cannot 
pretend  to  say,  for  the  presence  of  a  stranger  always 
acts  on  the  company  like  the  presence  of  a  severe 
inspector.  In  the  third  Besyeda  there  is  always 
at  least  strict  decorum.  Here  the  married  women 
work  together  and  talk  about  their  domestic  con- 
cerns, enlivening  the  conversation  occasionally  by 
the  introduction  of  little  bits  of  village  scandal. 
Such  is  the  ordinary  life  of  the  peasants  who  live 

137 


RUSSIA 

by  agriculture;  but  many  of  the  villagers  live  occa- 
sionally or  permanently  in  the  towns.  Probably 
the  majority  of  the  peasants  in  this  part  of  Russia 
have  at  some  period  of  their  lives  gained  a  living 
in  some  other  part  of  the  country.  Many  of  the 
absentees  spend  regularly  a  part  of  the  year  at 
home,  whilst  others  visit  their  families  only  occa- 
sionally, and,  it  may  be,  at  long  intervals.  In  no 
case,  however,  do  they  sever  their  connection  with 
their  native  village.  The  artisan  who  goes  to  work 
in  a  distant  town  never  takes  his  wufe  and  family 
with  him,  and  even  the  man  who  becomes  a  rich 
merchant  in  Moscow  or  St.  Petersburg  remains  prob- 
ably a  member  of  the  Village  Commune,  and  pays 
his  share  of  the  taxes,  though  he  does  not  enjoy 
any  of  the  corresponding  privileges.  Once  I  remem- 
ber asking  a  rich  man  of  this  kind,  the  proprietor 
of  several  large  valuable  houses  in  St.  Petersburg, 
why  he  did  not  free  himself  from  all  connection 
with  his  native  Commune,  with  which  he  had  no 
longer  any  common  interests.  His  answer  was,  "It 
is  all  VGTj  well  to  be  free,  and  I  don't  want  anything 
from  the  Commune  now;  but  my  old  father  lives 
there,  my  mother  is  buried  there,  and  I  like  to  go 
back  to  the  old  place  sometimes.  Besides,  I  have 
children,  and  our  affairs  are  commercial  {nashe  dyelo 
torgoroe).  Who  knows  but  my  children  may  be  very 
glad  some  day  to  have  a  share  of  the  Communal 
land?" 

In  respect  to  these  non-agricultural  occupations, 
each    district    has    its    specialty.     The   })rovince    of 

138 


PEASANTRY    OF    THE    NORTH 

Yaroslaff ,  for  instance,  supplies  the  large  towns  with 
waiters  for  the  Traktirs,  or  lower  class  of  restau- 
rants, whilst  the  best  hotels  in  Petersburg  are  sup- 
plied by  the  Tartars  of  Kasimof,  celebrated  for  their 
sobriety  and  honesty.  One  part  of  the  province 
of  Kostroma  has  a  special  reputation  for  producing 
carpenters  and  stove-builders,  whilst  another  part, 
as  I  once  discovered  to  my  surprise,  sends  yearly  to 
Siberia  —  not  as  convicts,  but  as  free  labourers  — 
a  large  contingent  of  tailors  and  workers  in  felt! 
On  questioning  some  youngsters  who  were  accom- 
panying as  apprentices  one  of  these  bands,  I  was 
informed  by  a  bright-eyed  youth  of  about  sixteen 
that  he  had  already  made  the  journey  twice,  and  in- 
tended to  go  every  winter.  "And  you  always  bring 
home  a  big  pile  of  money  with  you?"  I  inquired. 
*'Nitchevo!"  replied  the  little  fellow,  gaily,  with  an 
air  of  pride  and  self-confidence;  "last  year  I  brought 
home  three  roubles!"  This  answer  was,  at  the 
moment,  not  at  all  welcome,  for  I  had  just  been  dis- 
cussing with  a  Russian  fellow-traveller  as  to  whether 
the  peasantry  can  fairly  be  called  industrious,  and 
the  boy's  reply  enabled  my  antagonist  to  make  a 
point  against  me.  "Your  hear  that!"  he  said, 
triumphantly.  "A  Russian  peasant  goes  all  the 
way  to  Siberia  and  back  for  three  roubles!  Could 
you  get  an  Englishman  to  work  at  that  rate.'*" 
"Perhaps  not,"  I  replied,  evasively,  thinking  at 
the  same  time  that  if  a  youth  were  sent  several 
times  from  Land's  End  to  John  o'  Groat's  House, 
and  obliged  to  make  the  greater  part  of  the  journey 

139 


RUSSIA 

in  carts  or  on  foot,  he  would  probably  expect,  by 
way  of  remuneration  for  the  time  and  labour  ex- 
pended, rather  more  than  seven  and  sixpence! 

Very  often  the  peasants  find  industrial  occupa- 
tions without  leaving  home,  for  various  industries 
which  do  not  require  complicated  machinery  are 
practised  in  the  villages  by  the  peasants  and  their 
families.  Textile  fabrics,  wooden  vessels,  wrought 
iron,  pottery,  leather,  rush-matting,  and  numerous 
other  articles  are  thus  produced  in  enormous  quan- 
tities. Occasionally  we  find  not  only  a  whole  vil- 
lage, but  even  a  whole  district  occupied  almost 
exclusively  with  some  one  kind  of  manual  indus- 
try. In  the  province  of  Vladimir,  for  example,  a 
large  group  of  villages  live  by  Icon-painting;  in  one 
locality  near  Nizhni,  nineteen  villages  are  occupied 
with  the  manufacture  of  axes;  round  about  Pav- 
lovo,  in  the  same  province,  eighty  villages  produce 
almost  nothing  but  cutlery;  and  in  a  locality  called 
Ouloma,  on  the  borders  of  Novgorod  and  Tver,  no 
less  than  two  hundred  villages  live  by  nail-making. 

These  domestic  industries  have  long  existed,  and 
have  hitherto  been  an  abundant  source  of  revenue 
—  providing  a  certain  compensation  for  the  poverty 
of  the  soil.  But  at  present  they  are  in  a  very  critical 
position.  They  belong  to  the  primitive  period  of 
economic  development,  and  that  period  in  Russia  is 
now  rapidly  drawing  to  a  close.  Formerly  the  Head 
of  a  Household  bought  the  raw  material,  and  sold 
with  a  reasonable  profit  the  manufactured  articles 
at  the  *' Bazaars,"  as  the  local  fairs  arc  called,  or 

140 


PEASANTRY    OF    THE    NORTH 

perhaps  at  the  great  annual  Yarmarka  (a  corrup- 
tion of  the  German  word  Jahrmarkt)  of  Nizhni- 
Novgorod.  This  primitive  system  is  now  rapidly 
becoming  obsolete.  Great  factories  on  the  West- 
European  model  are  quickly  multiplying,  and  it  is 
difficult  for  manual  labour,  unassisted  by  machinery, 
to  compete  with  them.  Besides  this,  the  periodical 
Bazaars  and  Yarmarki,  at  which  producers  and  con- 
sumers transacted  their  affairs  without  mediation, 
are  being  gradually  replaced  by  permanent  stores 
and  various  classes  of  middle-men,  who  facilitate 
the  relations  between  consumers  and  producers. 
In  a  word,  capital  and  wholesale  enterprise  have 
come  into  the  field,  and  are  revolutionising  the  old 
methods  of  productions  and  trade.  Many  of  those 
who  formerly  worked  at  home  on  their  own  account 
are  now  forced  to  enter  the  great  factories  and  work 
for  fixed  weekly  or  monthly  wages;  and  nearly  all 
who  still  work  at  home  now  receive  the  raw  material 
on  credit,  and  deliver  the  manufactured  articles 
to  wholesale  merchants  at  a  stipulated  price. 

To  the  orthodox  political  economist  this  important 
change  must  afford  great  satisfaction.  According  to 
his  theories  it  is  a  gigantic  step  in  the  right  direc- 
tion, and  must  necessarily  redound  to  the  advantage 
of  all  parties  concerned.  The  producer  now  receives 
a  regular  supply  of  the  raw  material,  and  regularly 
disposes  of  the  articles  manufactured;  and  the  time 
and  trouble  which  he  formerly  devoted  to  wander- 
ing about  in  search  of  customers  he  can  now  employ 
more  profitably  in  productive  work.     The  creation 

141 


RUSSIA 

of  a  class  between  the  producers  and  the  consum- 
ers is  an  important  step  towards  that  division  and 
specialisation  of  labour,  without  which  great  in- 
dustrial and  commercial  enterprises  are  impossible. 
The  consumer  no  longer  requires  to  go  on  a  fixed 
day  to  some  distant  point,  on  the  chance  of  finding 
there  what  he  requires,  but  can  always  buy  what  he 
pleases  in  the  permanent  stores.  Above  all,  the  pro- 
duction is  greatly  increased  in  amount,  and  the  price 
of  manufactured  goods  is  proportionally  lessened. 

All  this  seems  clear  enough  in  theory,  and  any 
one  who  values  intellectual  tranquillity  will  feel  dis- 
posed to  accept  this  view  of  the  case  without  ques- 
tioning its  accuracy;  but  the  unfortunate  traveller, 
who  is  obliged  to  use  his  eyes  as  well  as  his  logical 
faculties,  will  probably  find  some  little  difficulty  in 
making  the  objective  facts  fit  into  the  a  priori 
formula.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  question  the  wis- 
dom of  political  economists,  but  I  cannot  refrain 
from  remarking  that  of  the  three  classes  concerned 
—  producers,  middle-men,  and  consumers  —  two  fail 
to  perceive  and  appreciate  the  benefits  which  have 
been  conferred  upon  them.  The  producers  com- 
plain that  on  the  new  system  they  work  more  and 
gain  less;  and  the  consumers  complain  that  the 
manufactured  articles  are  far  inferior  in  quality. 
The  middle-men,  who  are  popularly  supposed  to 
take  for  themselves  the  lion's  share  of  the  profits, 
alone  seem  satisfied  with  the  new  arrangement. 
However  this  may  be,  one  thing  is  certain:  the 
great  factories  have  not  hitherto  contributed  to  the 

142 


PEASANTRY    OF    THE    NORTH 

material  or  moral  welfare  of  the  population  among 
which  they  have  been  established.  Nowhere  is 
there  so  much  disease,  drunkenness,  demoralisation, 
and  misery  as  in  the  manufacturing  districts. 

The  reader  must  not  imagine  that  in  making  these 
statements  I  have  any  wish  to  calumniate  the  spirit 
of  modern  enterprise,  or  to  advocate  a  return  to 
primitive  barbarism.  All  great  changes  produce  a 
mixture  of  good  and  evil,  and  at  first  the  evil  is 
pretty  sure  to  come  prominently  forward.  Russia 
is  at  this  moment  in  a  state  of  transition,  and  the 
new  condition  of  things  is  not  yet  properly  organ- 
ised. In  general  there  is  no  proper  accommoda- 
tion for  the  workmen  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
factories,  and  in  the  smaller  works  no  attention  is 
paid  to  sanitary  considerations.  Thus,  for  instance, 
in  the  province  of  Novgorod  there  was  in  1870  a 
lucifer-match  manufactory,  in  which  all  the  hands 
employed  worked  habitually  in  an  atmosphere 
impregnated  with  the  fumes  of  phosphorus;  and  the 
natural  consequence  of  this  was  that  a  large  num- 
ber of  the  workers  were  suffering  from  disease  of 
the  jaw-bone  and  other  complaints.  Similar  im- 
perfections are  seen  in  the  commercial  world.  As 
very  many  branches  of  industry  and  commerce  are 
still  in  their  infancy,  it  often  happens  that  some 
enterprising  trader  acquires  practically  a  monopoly, 
and  uses  his  influence  in  reckless  fashion.  Not  a 
few  industrial  villages  have  thus  fallen  under  the 
power  of  the  Kulaki  —  literally  Fists  —  as  these 
monopolists  are  called.     By  advancing  money  the 

143 


RUSSIA 

Kulak  may  succeed  in  acquiring  over  a  group  of 
villages  a  power  almost  as  unlimited  as  that  of  the 
proprietor  in  the  time  of  serfage. 

Attempts  are  frequently  made  to  break  the  power 
of  the  Kulaki  by  means  of  association.  The  favour- 
ite form  of  association  is  that  recommended  by 
Schulze-Delitsch,  which  has  had  so  much  success 
in  Germany.  What  the  ultimate  result  of  this 
movement  will  be  it  would  be  hazardous  to  predict, 
but  I  may  say  that  already  some  of  these  associa- 
tions work  remarkably  well. 

During  all  my  travels  in  Russia,  one  of  the  objects 
which  I  constantly  kept  in  view  was  the  collection 
of  materials  for  a  History  of  the  Emancipation  of 
the  Serfs  —  a  great  reform,  which  has  always  seemed 
to  me  one  of  the  most  interesting  events  of  modern 
history.  It  was  natural,  therefore,  that  I  should 
gather  in  this  northern  region  as  much  information 
as  possible  regarding  the  life  of  the  peasantry  and 
their  relation  to  the  landed  proprietors  during  the 
time  of  serfage;  and  I  think  that  a  little  of  this 
information  will  be  not  unacceptable  to  the  reader. 

In  this,  as  in  other  parts  of  Russia,  a  very  large 
portion  of  the  land  —  perhaps  as  much  as  one-half 
—  belonged  to  the  State.  The  peasants  living  on 
this  land  had  no  masters,  and  were  governed  by  a 
special  branch  of  the  Imperial  Administration.  In 
a  certain  sense  they  were  serfs,  for  they  were  not 
allowed  to  change  their  official  domicile,  but  practi- 
cally they  enjoyed  a  very  large  amount  of  liberty. 
By  paying  a  small  sum  for  a  passport  they  could 

144 


PEASANTRY    OF    THE    NORTH 

leave  their  villages  for  an  indefinite  length  of  time, 
and  so  long  as  they  paid  regularly  their  taxes  and 
dues  they  were  in  little  danger  of  being  molested. 
Many  of  them,  though  officially  inscribed  in  their 
native  villages,  lived  permanently  in  the  towns, 
and  not  a  few  of  them  succeeded  in  amassing  large 
fortunes. 

Of  the  remaining  land,  a  considerable  portion  be- 
longed to  rich  nobles,  who  rarely  or  never  visited 
their  estates,  and  left  the  management  of  them  either 
to  the  serfs  themselves  or  to  a  steward,  who  acted 
according  to  a  code  of  instructions.  On  these  estates 
the  position  of  the  serfs  was  very  similar  to  that  of 
the  State  peasants.  They  had  their  Communal  land, 
which  they  distributed  among  themselves  as  they 
thought  fit,  and  enjoyed  the  remainder  of  the  arable 
land  in  return  for  a  fixed  yearly  rent. 

Some  proprietors,  however,  lived  on  their  estates 
and  farmed  on  their  own  account,  and  here  the 
condition  of  the  serfs  was  somewhat  different.  A 
considerable  number  of  these,  perhaps  as  many  as 
ten  per  cent.,  were,  properly  speaking,  not  serfs 
at  all,  but  rather  domestic  slaves,  who  fulfilled  the 
functions  of  coachmen,  grooms,  gardeners,  game- 
keepers, cooks,  lackeys,  and  the  like.  Their  wives 
and  daughters  acted  as  nurses,  domestic  servants, 
lady's  maids,  and  seamstresses.  If  the  master  organ- 
ised a  private  theatre  or  orchestra,  the  actors  or 
musicians  were  drawn  from  this  class.  These  serfs 
lived  in  the  mansion  or  the  immediate  vicinity,  pos- 
sessed no  land,  except  perhaps  a  little  plot  for  a 

B0881A    I — 10  145 


RUSSIA 

kitchen-garden,  and  were  fed  and  clothed  by  the  mas- 
ter. Their  number  was  generally  out  of  all  propor- 
tion to  the  amount  of  work  they  had  to  perform,  and 
consequently  they  were  always  imbued  with  an  he- 
reditary spirit  of  indolence,  and  performed  lazily  and 
carelessly  what  they  had  to  do.  On  the  other  hand, 
they  were  often  sincerely  attached  to  the  family 
they  served,  and  occasionally  proved  by  acts  their 
fidelity  and  attachment.  Here  is  an  instance  out 
of  the  many  for  which  I  can  vouch.  An  old  nurse, 
whose  mistress  was  dangerously  ill,  vowed  that,  in 
the  event  of  the  patient's  recovery,  she  would  make 
a  pilgrimage  first  to  Kief,  the  Holy  City  on  the 
Dnieper,  and  afterwards  to  Solovetsk,  a  much- 
revered  monastery  on  an  island  in  the  White  Sea. 
The  patient  recovered,  and  the  old  woman  walked  in 
fulfilment  of  her  vow  more  than  two  thousand  miles ! 

I  have  called  this  class  of  serfs  "domestic  slaves," 
because  I  cannot  find  any  more  appropriate  term, 
but  I  must  warn  the  reader  that  he  ought  not  to 
use  this  phrase  in  presence  of  a  Russian.  On  this 
point  Russians  are  extremely  sensitive.  Serfage, 
they  say  indignantly,  was  something  quite  different 
from  slavery;  and  slavery  never  existed  in  Russia! 

This  assertion,  which  I  have  heard  scores  of  times 
from  educated  Russians,  cannot  be  accepted  unre- 
servedly. The  first  part  of  it  is  perfectly  true;  the 
second,  perfectly  false.  In  old  times  slavery  was  a 
recognized  institution  in  Russia,  as  in  other  coun- 
tries. It  is  almost  impossible  to  read  a  few  pages 
of  the  old  native  chronicles  without  stumbling  on 

146 


PEASANTRY    OF    THE    NORTH 

references  to  slaves;  and  I  distinctly  remember  — 
though  I  cannot  at  this  moment  give  chapter  and 
verse  —  that  there  was  one  Russian  Prince  who  was 
so  valiant  and  so  successful  in  his  wars,  that  during 
his  reign  a  slave  might  be  bought  for  a  few  coppers. 
How  the  distinction  between  serfs  and  slaves  gradu- 
ally disappeared,  and  how  the  latter  term  fell  into 
disuse,  I  need  not  here  relate;  but  I  must  assert,  in 
the  interests  of  truth,  that  the  class  of  serfs  above 
mentioned,  though  they  were  officially  and  popu- 
larly called  dyorovuiye  lyudi  —  that  is  to  say,  court- 
yard people  —  were  to  all  intents  and  purposes 
domestic  slaves.  Down  to  the  commencement  of 
the  present  century  the  Russian  newspapers  con- 
tained advertisements  of  this  kind  —  I  take  the  ex- 
amples almost  at  random  from  the  Moscow  Gazette 
of  1801:  *'To  BE  SOLD,  three  coachmen,  well-trained 
and  handsome;  and  two  girls,  the  one  eighteen  and 
the  other  fifteen  years  of  age,  both  of  them  good- 
looking  and  well  acquainted  with  various  kinds  of 
handiwork.  In  the  same  house  there  are  for  sale 
two  hair-dressers:  the  one  twenty-one  years  of  age 
can  read,  write,  play  on  a  musical  instrument,  and 
act  as  huntsman;  the  other  can  dress  ladies'  and 
gentlemen's  hair.  In  the  same  house  are  sold  pianos 
and  organs."  A  little  further  on,  a  first-rate  clerk, 
a  carver,  and  a  lackey  are  offered  for  sale,  and  the 
reason  assigned  is  superabundance  of  the  articles 
in  question  {za  izUshestvom) .  In  some  instances  it 
seems  as  if  the  serfs  and  the  cattle  were  intention- 
ally put  in  the  same  category,  as  in  the  following: 

147 


RUSSIA 

"In  this  house  one  can  buy  a  coachman,  and  a 
Dutch  cow  about  to  calve."  The  style  of  these 
advertisements  and  the  frequent  recurrence  of  the 
same  address  show  plainly  that  there  was  at  that 
time  a  regular  class  of  slave-dealers. 

The  humane  Alexander  I.  prohibited  public  adver- 
tisements of  this  kind,  but  he  did  not  put  down  the 
custom  which  they  represented;  and  his  successor, 
Nicholas,  took  no  active  measures  for  its  repression. 
Thus  until  the  commencement  of  the  present  reign 
—  that  is  to  say,  until  about  twenty  years  ago  — 
the  practice  was  continued  under  a  more  or  less  dis- 
guised form.  Middle-aged  people  have  often  told 
me  that  in  their  youth  they  knew  proprietors  who 
habitually  caused  young  domestic  serfs  to  be  taught 
trades,  in  order  afterwards  to  sell  them  or  let  them 
out  for  hire.  It  was  from  such  proprietors  that 
the  theatres  obtained  a  large  number  of  their  best 
actors. 

Very  different  was  the  position  of  the  serfs  properly 
so-called.  They  lived  in  villages,  possessed  houses 
and  gardens  of  their  own,  tilled  the  Communal  land 
for  their  own  benefit,  enjoyed  a  certain  amount  of 
self-government,  of  which  I  shall  speak  presently, 
and  were  rarely  sold  except  as  part  of  the  estate. 
They  might,  indeed,  be  sold  to  a  landed  proprie- 
tor, and  transferred  to  his  estates;  but  such  trans- 
actions rarely  took  place.  The  ordinary  relations 
which  existed  between  serfs  and  the  proprietor  may 
be  best  explained  by  one  or  two  examples.  Let  us 
take  first  Ivanofka. 

148 


PEASANTRY    OF    THE    NORTH 

Though  the  proprietor's  house  was  situated,  as  I 
have  said,  close  to  the  village,  the  manor  land  and 
the  Communal  land  had  always  been  kept  clearly 
separate,  and  might  almost  be  said  to  form  two 
independent  estates.     The  proprietor  who  reigned 
in  Ivanofka  during  the  last  years  of  serfage  was 
keenly  alive  to  his  own  interests,  and  always  desir- 
ous of  increasing  his  revenue;  but  he  was,  at  the 
same  time,  a  just   and   intelligent  man,  who  was 
never   guilty  of   extortion  or  cruelty.     Though  he 
had  the  welfare  of  his  serfs  really  at  heart,  he  rarely 
interfered  in  their  domestic  or  Communal  arrange- 
ments, because  he  believed  that  men  in  general,  and 
Russian  peasants  in  particular,  are  the  best  admin- 
istrators of  their  own  affairs.     He  did  not,  indeed, 
always  carry  out  this  principle  to  its  logical  conse- 
quences, for  he  was  not  by  any  means  a  thorough 
doctrinaire.    Thus,  for  example,  he  insisted  on  being 
consulted  when  a  Village  Elder  was  to  be  elected, 
or  any  important   matter  decided;   and  when  cir- 
cumstances seemed  to  demand  his  interference,  he 
usually  showed  the  peasants  that  he  could  be  dicta- 
tor if  he  chose.     These  were,  however,  exceptional 
incidents.     In    the    ordinary   course    of    affairs    he 
treated  the  Commune  almost  as  a  respected  farmer 
or  trusted  steward.     In  return  for  the  land  which 
he  ceded  to  it,  and  which  it  was  free  to  distribute 
among  its  members  as  it  thought  fit,  he  demanded 
a  certain  amount  of  labour  and  dues;  but  he  never 
determined  what  particular  labourers  should  be  sent 
to  him,  or  in  what  way  the  dues  should  be  levied. 

149 


RUSSIA 

The  amount  of  the  labour-dues  was  determined 
in  this  way.  The  tyaglo,  or  labour-unit,  was  com- 
posed of  a  man,  a  woman,  and  a  horse;  and  each 
tyaglo  owed  to  the  proprietor  three  days'  labour 
every  week.  If  a  household  contained  two  tydgla^ 
one  of  them  might  work  for  the  proprietor  six  days 
in  the  week,  and  thereby  liberate  the  other  from  its 
obligation.  In  this  way  one-half  of  a  large  family 
could  labour  constantly  for  the  household,  whilst 
the  other  half  fulfilled  all  the  obligations  towards 
the  proprietor.  The  other  dues  consisted  of  lambs, 
chickens,  eggs,  and  linen-cloth,  together  with  a  cer- 
tain sum  of  money,  which  was  contributed  by  those 
peasants  who  were  allowed  to  go  away  and  work  in 
the  towns. 

At  a  short  distance  from  Ivanofka  was  an  estate, 
which  had  been  managed  in  the  time  of  serfage  on 
entirely  different  principles.  The  proprietor  was  a 
man  who  had  likewise  the  welfare  of  his  serfs  at 
heart,  because  he  knew  that  on  their  welfare  de- 
pended his  own  revenues,  but  he  did  not  believe 
in  the  principle  of  allowing  them  to  manage  their 
own  affairs.  The  Russian  peasant,  he  was  wont 
to  say,  is  a  child  —  a  foolish,  imprudent,  indolent 
child  who  inevitably  ruins  himself  when  not  prop- 
erly looked  after.  In  accordance  with  this  princi- 
ple the  proprietor  sought  to  regulate  not  merely  the 
Communal  but  also  the  domestic  concerns  of  his 
serfs.  Not  only  did  he  always  nominate  the  Village 
Elder  and  decide  all  matters  touching  the  Comnm- 
nal  welfare,  but  he  at  the  same  time  arranged  the 

150 


PEASANTRY    OF   THE    NORTH 

marriages,  decided  who  was  to  seek  work  in  the 
towns  and  who  was  to  stay  at  home,  paid  frequent 
visits  of  inspection  to  tlie  peasants'  houses,  prohib- 
ited the  heads  of  families  from  selling  their  grain 
without  his  permission,  and  exercised  in  various 
other  ways  a  system  of  minute  supervision.  In 
return  for  all  this  paternal  solicitude  he  was  able  to 
extract  a  wonderfully  large  revenue  from  his  estate, 
though  his  fields  were  by  no  means  more  fertile  or 
better  cultivated  than  those  of  his  neighbours. 
The  additional  revenue  was  derived,  not  from  the 
land,  but  from  the  serfs.  Knowing  intimately  the 
domestic  affairs  of  each  family,  he  could  lay  on  them 
the  heaviest  possible  burdens  without  adding  that 
last  hair  which  is  said  to  break  the  camel's  back. 
And  many  of  the  expedients  he  employed  did  more 
credit  to  his  ingenuity  than  to  his  moral  character. 
Thus,  for  instance,  if  he  discovered  that  a  family 
had  saved  a  little  money,  he  would  propose  that 
one  of  the  daughters  should  marry  some  one  of 
whom,  he  knew,  her  father  would  certainly  disap- 
prove, or  he  would  express  his  intention  of  giving 
one  of  the  sons  as  a  recruit.  In  either  case  a  ran- 
som was  pretty  sure  to  be  paid  in  order  to  ward  off 
the  threatened  danger. 

All  the  proprietors  who  lived  on  their  estates 
approached  more  or  less  nearly  to  one  of  these  two 
types;  but  here  in  the  northern  regions  the  latter 
type  was  not  very  often  met  with.  Partly  from 
the  prevailing  absenteeism  among  the  landlords, 
and  partly  from  the  peasants'  old-established  habit 

lol 


RUSSIA 

of  wandering  about  the  country  and  going  to  the 
towns  in  search  of  work,  these  peasants  of  the  north 
are  more  energetic,  more  intelHgent,  more  inde- 
pendent, and  consequently  less  docile  and  pliable 
than  those  of  the  fertile  central  provinces.  They 
have,  too,  more  education.  A  large  proportion  of 
them  can  read  and  write,  and  occasionally  one 
meets  among  them  men  who  have  a  keen  desire  for 
knowledge.  Several  times  I  encountered  peasants 
in  this  region  who  had  a  small  collection  of  books, 
and  twice  I  found  in  such  collections,  much  to  my 
astonishment,  a  Russian  translation  of  Buckle's 
"History  of  Civihsation"! 

How,  it  may  be  asked,  did  a  work  of  this  sort  find 
its  way  to  such  a  place  .^  If  the  reader  will  pardon  a 
short  digression,  I  shall  explain  the  fact. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  present  reign  there 
was  a  curious  intellectual  movement  —  of  which  I 
shall  have  more  to  say  hereafter  —  among  the  Rus- 
sian educated  classes.  The  movement  assumed  vari- 
ous forms,  of  which  two  of  the  most  prominent 
were  a  desire  for  encyclopaedic  knowledge,  and  an 
attempt  to  reduce  all  knowledge  to  a  scientific  form. 
For  men  in  this  state  of  mind.  Buckle's  great  work 
had  naturally  a  powerful  fascination.  It  seemed 
at  first  sight  to  reduce  the  multifarious,  conflicting 
facts  of  human  history  to  a  few  simple  principles, 
and  to  evolve  order  out  of  chaos.  Its  success, 
therefore,  was  great.  In  the  course  of  a  few  years 
no  less  than  four  independent  translations  —  so  at 
least  I  have  been  informed  by  a  good  authority  — 

152 


PEASANTRY   OF   THE    NORTH 

were  published  and  sold.  Every  one  read,  or  at 
least  professed  to  have  read,  the  wonderful  book, 
and  many  believed  that  its  author  was  the  great 
genius  of  the  present  generation.  During  the  first 
year  of  my  residence  in  Russia,  I  rarely  had  a  serious 
conversation  without  hearing  Buckle's  name  men- 
tioned; and  my  friends  almost  always  assumed  that 
he  had  succeeded  in  creating  a  genuine  science  of 
history  on  the  inductive  method.  In  vain  I  pointed 
out  that  Buckle  had  merely  thrown  out  some  hints 
in  his  introductory  chapter  as  to  how  such  a  science 
ought  to  be  constructed,  and  that  he  had  himself 
made  no  serious  attempt  to  use  the  method  which 
he  commended.  My  objections  had  little  or  no 
effect:  the  belief  was  too  deep-rooted  to  be  so  easily 
eradicated.  In  books,  periodicals,  neswpapers,  and 
professional  lectures,  the  name  of  Buckle  was  con- 
stantly cited  —  often  violently  dragged  in  without 
the  slightest  reason  —  and  the  cheap  translations 
of  his  work  were  sold  in  enormous  quantities.  It  is 
not,  then,  so  very  wonderful  after  all  that  the  book 
should  have  found  its  way  to  two  villages  in  the 
province  of  Yaroslaff. 

The  enterprising,  self-reliant,  independent  spirit 
which  is  often  to  be  found  among  those  peasants  of 
the  north  appears  occasionally  in  the  young  genera- 
tion. Often  in  this  part  of  the  country  I  have  encoun- 
tered boys  who  recalled  young  America  rather  than 
young  Russia.  One  of  these  young  hopefuls  I 
remembered  well.  I  was  waiting  at  a  post-station 
for  the  horses  to  be  changed,   when  he  appeared 

153 


RUSSIA 

before  me  in  a  sheep-skin,  fur  cap,  and  gigantic 
double-soled  boots  —  all  of  which  articles  had  been 
made  on  a  scale  adapted  to  future  rather  than  actual 
requirements.  He  must  have  stood  in  his  boots 
about  three  feet  eight  inches,  and  he  could  not  have 
been  more  than  twelve  years  of  age;  but  he  had 
already  learned  to  look  upon  life  as  a  serious  business, 
wore  a  commanding  air,  and  knitted  his  innocent 
little  brows  as  if  the  cares  of  an  empire  weighed  on 
his  diminutive  shoulders.  Though  he  was  to  act  as 
Yemstchik,  he  had  to  leave  the  putting  in  of  the 
horses  to  larger  specimens  of  the  human  species,  but 
he  observed  carefully  that  all  was  done  properly. 
Putting  one  of  his  big  boots  a  little  in  advance,  and 
drawing  himself  up  to  his  full  shortness,  he  watched 
the  operation  attentively,  as  if  the  smallness  of  his 
stature  had  nothing  to  do  with  his  inactivity.  When 
all  was  ready,  he  climbed  up  to  his  seat,  and  at  a 
signal  from  the  station-keeper,  who  watched  w^ith  pa- 
ternal pride  all  the  movements  of  the  little  prodigy, 
we  dashed  off  at  a  pace  rarely  attained  by  post- 
horses.  He  had  the  faculty  of  emitting  a  peculiar 
sound  —  something  between  a  whirr  and  a  whistle 
—  that  appeared  to  have  a  magical  effect  on  the 
team,  and  every  few  minutes  he  employed  this 
incentive.  The  road  was  rough,  and  at  every  jolt 
he  was  shot  upwards  into  the  air,  but  he  always  fell 
into  his  proper  position,  and  never  lost  for  a  moment 
his  self-possession  or  his  balance.  At  the  end  of 
the  journey  I  found  we  had  made  about  fourteen 
miles  within  the  hour. 

154 


PEASANTRY   OF   THE   NORTH 

Unfortunately  this  energetic,  enterprising  spirit 
sometimes  takes  an  illegitimate  direction.  Not  only 
whole  villages,  but  even  whole  districts  have  in  this 
way  acquired  a  bad  reputation  for  robbery,  the 
manufacture  of  paper-money,  and  similar  offences 
against  the  criminal  law.  In  popular  parlance  these 
localities  are  said  to  contain  "people  who  play 
pranks"  {narod  shalit).  I  must,  however,  remark 
that,  if  I  may  judge  by  my  own  experience,  these 
so-called  "playful"  tendencies  are  greatly  exagger- 
ated. Though  I  have  travelled  hundreds  of  miles 
at  night  on  lonely  roads,  I  have  never  been  robbed 
or  in  any  way  molested.  Once,  indeed,  when  trav- 
elling at  night  in  a  tarantass,  I  discovered  on  awak- 
ing that  my  driver  was  bending  over  me,  and  had 
introduced  his  hand  into  one  of  my  pockets;  but 
the  incident  ended  without  serious  consequences. 
When  I  caught  the  delinquent  hand,  and  demanded 
an  explanation  from  the  owner,  he  replied,  in  an 
apologetic,  caressing  tone,  that  the  night  was  cold, 
and  he  wished  to  warm  his  fingers;  and  when  I  ad- 
vised him  to  use  for  that  purpose  his  own  pockets 
rather  than  mine,  he  promised  to  act  in  future 
according  to  my  advice.  More  than  once,  it  is 
true,  I  believed  that  I  was  in  danger  of  being  at- 
tacked, but  on  every  occasion  my  fears  turned  out 
to  be  unfounded,  and  sometimes  the  catastrophe 
was  ludicrous  rather  than  tragical.  Let  the  follow- 
ing serve  as  an  illustration. 

I  had  occasion  to  traverse,  in  company  with  a 
Russian  friend,  the  country  lying  to  the  east  of  the 

155 


RUSSIA 

river  Vetluga  —  a  land  of  forest  and  morass,  with 
here  and  there  a  patch  of  cultivation.  The  majority 
of  the  population  are  Tcheremiss,  a  Finnish  tribe; 
but  near  the  banks  of  the  river  there  are  villages  of 
Russian  peasants,  and  these  latter  have  the  reputa- 
tion of  "playing  pranks."  When  we  were  on  the 
point  of  starting  from  Kozmodemiansk,  a  town  on 
the  right  bank  of  the  Volga,  we  received  a  visit 
from  an  officer  of  rural  police,  who  painted  in  very 
sombre  colours  the  habits  and  moral  character  —  or, 
more  properly,  immoral  character  —  of  the  people 
whose  acquaintance  we  were  about  to  make.  He 
related  with  excited,  melodramatic  gesticulation  his 
deadly  encounters  and  hair-breadth  escapes  in  the 
villages  through  which  we  had  to  pass,  and  ended 
the  interview  w^ith  a  strong  recommendation  to  us 
not  to  travel  at  night,  and  to  keep  at  all  times  our 
eyes  open  and  our  revolver  ready.  The  effect  of  his 
narrative,  like  the  effect  of  so  many  stories  that 
appear  in  print,  was  considerably  diminished  by  the 
prominence  of  the  moral,  which  was  to  the  effect 
that  there  never  had  been  a  police-officer,  either 
in  Russia  or  any  other  country,  who  had  shown  so 
much  zeal,  energy,  and  courage  in  the  discharge  of 
his  duty  as  the  worthy  man  before  us.  We  con- 
sidered it,  however,  advisable  to  remember  his  hint 
about  keeping  our  eyes  open. 

In  spite  of  our  intention  of  being  very  cautious, 
it  was  already  dark  when  we  arrived  at  the  village 
which  was  to  be  our  halting-place  for  the  night,  and 
it  seemed  at  first  as  if  we  should  be  obliged  to  spend 

156 


PEASANTRY   OF   THE    NORTH 

the  night  in  the  open  air.     The  inhabitants  had 
already  retired  to  rest,  and  refused  to  open  their 
doors  to  unknown  travellers.     At  length  one  woman, 
more  hospitable  than  her  neighbours,  consented  to 
let  us  pass  the  night  in  an  outer  apartment  (seni)y 
and  this  permission  we  gladly  accepted.     My  friend, 
who  had  not  forgotten  the  graphic  descriptions  of 
the  police-officer  at  Kozmodemiansk,  made  a  careful 
inspection  of  the  place,  and  declared  that  the  room, 
though  densely  populated,  contained  no  bipeds  ex- 
cept ourselves.     Still,  in  view  of  a  curious  opening 
in  the  roof,  he  thought  that  we  ought  to  mount 
guard  alternatively  during  the  night,  and  proposed 
to  take  the  first  watch.     This  was  at  once  agreed 
to.     When  we  had  carefully  fastened  the  windows 
by  ingenious,  extemporised  contrivances,  I  gave  him 
my  revolver,  for  self-defence  or  for  raising  an  alarm, 
as  circumstances   might  dictate,   and  lay  down  to 
rest.     Our  precautions  had  not  been  unnecessary. 
First  there  was  an  attempt  to  open  the  outer  door; 
then  an  attempt  to  open  the  door  from  the  inner 
apartment;   and,   lastly,   an   attempt   to   open   the 
window.     All  these  attempts  were  duly  frustrated, 
and  at  length  I  fell  asleep;  but  shortly  afterwards 
I  was  suddenly  aroused  by  some  one  tightly  grasp- 
ing my  arm.    As  the  light  had  been  in  the  meantime 
extinguished,  I  could  see  nothing,  but  I  instinctively 
sprang  up,  and  endeavoured  to  close  with  my  in- 
visible assailant.     In  vain!     He  dexterously  eluded 
my  grasp,  and  I  stumbled  over  my  portmanteau, 
which  was  lying  on  the  floor;  but  my  prompt  action 

157 


RUSSIA 

revealed  who  the  intruder  was,  by  producing  a  wild 
flutter  and  a  frantic  cackling!  Before  my  compan- 
ion could  strike  a  light,  the  mysterious  attack  was 
fully  explained.  The  supposed  midnight  robber  and 
possible  assassin  was  simply  a  peaceable  hen  that 
had  gone  to  roost  on  my  arm,  and,  on  finding  her 
position  unsteady,  had  dug  her  claws  into  what  she 
mistook  for  a  roosting-pole ! 

Though  I  have  not  yet  visited  the  extreme 
north  of  Russia,  perhaps  I  ought  to  insert  here 
some  information,  which  I  collected  from  various 
sources,  concerning  the  life  of  the  peasantry  in  that 
region. 

If  we  draw  a  wavy  line  eastward  from  a  point  a 
little  to  the  north  of  St.  Petersburg,  as  is  shown  in 
the  map  prefixed  to  the  second  volume,  we  shall 
have  between  that  line  and  the  Polar  Ocean  what 
may  be  regarded  as  a  distinct,  peculiar  region, 
differing  in  may  respects  from  the  rest  of  Russia. 
Throughout  the  whole  of  it  the  climate  is  very 
severe.  For  about  half  of  the  year  the  ground  is 
covered  by  deep  snow,  and  the  rivers  covered  with 
ice.  By  far  the  greater  part  of  the  surface  is  occupied 
by  forests  of  pine,  fir,  larch,  and  birch,  or  by  vast, 
unfathomable  morasses.  The  arable  land  and  pas- 
turage taken  together  form  only  about  one  and  a 
half  per  cent,  of  the  area.  The  population  is  scarce 
—  little  more  ihan  one  to  the  English  square  mile  — 
and  settled  chiefly  along  the  banks  of  the  rivers. 
The  peasantry  support  themselves  by  fishing,  hunt- 
ing, felling  and  floating  timber,  preparing  tar  and 

158 


PEASANTRY   OF   THE    NORTH 

charcoal,  cattle-breeding,  and,  in  the  extreme  north, 
by  breeding  reindeer. 

These  are  their  chief  occupations,  but  they  do  not 
entirely  neglect  agriculture.  Their  summer  is  short, 
but  they  make  the  most  of  it  by  means  of  a  peculiar 
and  ingenious  mode  of  farming,  which,  though  it 
may  seem  strange,  not  to  say  absurd,  to  the  English 
farmer,  is  well  adapted  to  the  peculiar  local  con- 
ditions. The  peasant  knows  of  course  nothing  about 
agronomical  chemistry,  but  he,  as  well  as  his  fore- 
fathers, have  observed  that  if  wood  be  burnt  on  a 
field,  and  the  ashes  be  mixed  with  the  soil,  the 
probable  result  is  a  good  harvest.  On  this  simple 
principle  his  system  of  farming  is  based.  When 
spring  comes  round  and  the  leaves  begin  to  appear 
on  the  trees,  a  band  of  peasants,  armed  with  their 
hatchets,  proceed  to  some  spot  in  the  woods  pre- 
viously fixed  upon.  Here  they  begin  to  make  a  clear- 
ing. This  is  no  easy  matter,  for  tree-felling  is  hard 
and  tedious  work;  but  the  process  does  not  take  so 
much  time  as  might  be  expected,  for  the  workmen 
have  been  brought  up  to  the  trade,  and  wield  their 
axes  with  marvellous  dexterity.  Besides  this,  they 
contrive,  it  is  said,  to  use  fire  as  an  assistant.  Wlien 
they  have  felled  all  the  trees,  great  and  small,  they 
return  to  their  homes,  and  think  no  more  about 
their  clearing  till  the  autumn,  when  they  return,  in 
order  to  strip  the  fallen  trees  of  their  branches,  to 
pick  out  what  they  require  for  building  purposes  or 
firewood,  and  to  pile  up  the  remainder  in  heaps.  The 
logs  for  building  or  firewood  are  dragged  away  by 

159 


RUSSIA 

horses  as  soon  as  the  first  fall  of  snow  has  made  a 
good  slippery  road,  but  the  piles  are  allowed  to  re- 
main till  the  following  spring,  when  they  are  stirred 
up  with  long  poles  and  ignited.  The  flames  first 
appear  at  several  points,  and  then,  with  the  help  of 
the  dry  grass  and  chips,  rapidly  spread  in  all  direc- 
tions till  they  join  together  and  form  a  gigantic  bon- 
fire, such  as  is  never  seen  in  more  densely  populated 
countries.  If  the  fire  does  its  work  properly,  the 
whole  of  the  space  is  covered  with  a  layer  of  ashes; 
and  when  these  have  been  slightly  mixed  with  soil 
by  means  of  a  light  plough,  the  seed  is  sown. 

On  the  field  prepared  in  this  original  fashion  is 
sown  barley,  rye,  or  flax;  and  the  harvests,  nearly 
always  good,  sometimes  border  on  the  miraculous. 
Barley  or  rye  may  be  expected  to  produce  about 
sixfold  in  ordinary  years,  and  they  may  produce  as 
much  as  thirtyfold  under  peculiarly  favourable  cir- 
cumstances. The  fertility  is,  however,  short-lived. 
If  the  soil  is  poor  and  stony,  not  more  than  two 
crops  can  be  raised;  but  if  it  is  of  a  better  quality, 
it  may  give  tolerable  harvests  for  six  or  seven  suc- 
cessive years.  In  most  countries  this  would  be  an 
absurdly  expensive  way  of  manuring,  for  wood  is 
much  too  valuable  a  commodity  to  be  used  for  such 
a  purpose;  but  in  this  northern  region  the  forests 
are  boundless,  and  in  the  districts  where  there  is  no 
river  or  stream  by  which  timber  may  be  floated, 
the  trees  not  used  in  this  way  rot  from  old  age. 
Under  these  circumstances  the  system  is  reasonable, 
but  it  must  be  admitted  that  it  does  not  give  a  very 

160 


< 

< 

t— I 
02 


PEASANTRY   OF   THE   NORTH 

large  return   for   the  amount  of    labour  expended, 
and  in  bad  seasons  it  gives  almost  no  return  at  all. 

The  other  sources  of  revenue  are  scarcely  less  pre- 
carious. With  his  gun  and  a  little  parcel  of  pro- 
visions, the  peasant  wanders  about  in  the  trackless 
forest,  and  too  often  returns  after  many  days  with 
a  very  light  bag;  or  he  starts  in  autumn  for  some 
distant  lake,  and  comes  back  after  five  or  six  weeks 
with  nothing  better  than  perch  and  pike.  Some- 
times he  tries  his  luck  at  deep-sea  fishing.  In  this 
case  he  starts  in  February  —  probably  on  foot  — 
for  Kem,  situated  on  the  shore  of  the  White  Sea, 
or  perhaps  for  the  more  distant  Kola,  situated  on  a 
small  river  which  falls  into  the  Arctic  Ocean.  There, 
in  company  with  three  or  four  others,  he  starts  on  a 
fishing  cruise  along  the  Murman  coast,  or,  it  may  be, 
off  the  coast  of  Spitzbergen.  His  gains  will  depend 
on  the  amount  caught,  for  it  is  a  joint- venture; 
but  in  no  case  can  they  be  very  great,  for  three- 
fourths  of  the  fish  brought  into  port  belong  to  the 
owner  of  the  craft  and  tackle.  Of  the  sum  realised, 
he  brings  home  perhaps  only  a  small  part,  for  he 
has  a  strong  temptation  to  buy  rum,  tea,  and  other 
luxuries,  which  are  very  dear  in  those  northern  lati- 
tudes. If  the  fishing  is  good  and  he  resists  temp- 
tation, he  may  save  as  much  as  100  roubles  — 
about  £12  —  and  thereby  live  comfortably  all  winter; 
but  if  the  fishing  season  is  bad,  he  may  find  him- 
self at  the  end  of  it  not  only  with  emptj^  pockets, 
but  in  debt  to  the  owner  of  the  boat.  This  debt 
he  may  pay  off,  if  he  has  a  horse,  by  transporting 

BU88IA    I  —  11  161 


RUSSIA 

the  dried  fish  to  Kargopol,  St.  Petersburg,  or  some 
other  market. 

Perhaps  the  best  way  to  convey  an  idea  of  peasant 
Hfe  in  this  region  is  to  give  a  family  ))iidget  which  I 
happen  to  have  at  hand.  The  family  consisted  of 
five  members:  two  able-bodied  males,  one  boy,  and 
two  women.  The  year  was,  on  the  whole,  a  good 
one;  for  though  the  fishing  was  not  as  successful  as 
it  might  have  been,  the  harvest  was  much  more 
plentiful  than  usual,  and  supplied  the  family  with 
food  for  five  months.  The  following  table  shows  the 
revenue  and  expenditure  in  English  money:  — 

Revenue 

£  s.  d. 
Sold   100  pairs  of  Gelinottes   and  other 

Game,  at  6d.  per  pair 2  10  0 

"      200  lbs.  of  Caviar,  at  3d.  per  lb.  •  .  .      2  10  0 

"      Dried  Fish 1  5  0 

Herrings  and  other  Sea  Fish 3  5  0 

Miscellanea  (perhaps  from  felling  timber)      2  15  0 

£12  5  0 

Expenditure 

£  s.  d. 
Rye    Meal    (2,240    lbs.),    to   supply    the 

deficit  of  the  harvest 7  0  0 

Taxes 2  5  0 

Clothes  and  Boots 2  10  0 

Fishing  Tackle,  Powder  and  Shot,  etc.   .  .      0  10  0 

£12  5  0 


The  above  budget  must  not  be  regarded  as  any- 
thing more  than  a  possibility,  but   it  may  perhaps 

1G2 


PEASANTRY    OF   THE   NORTH 

assist  the  reader  who  desires  to  gain  at  least  a  vague 
notion  of  peasant  hfe  throughout  a  large  part  of 
Northern  Russia. 

It  is  here  in  the  far  North  that  the  ancient  folk- 
lore —  popular  songs,  stories,  and  fragments  of  epic 
poetry  —  has  been  best  preserved;  but  this  is  a 
field  on  which  I  need  not  enter,  for  the  reader  can 
easily  find  all  that  he  may  desire  to  know  on  the 
subject  in  the  brilliant  writings  of  M.  Rambaud 
and  the  very  interesting,  conscientious  works  of  Mr. 
Ralston,  which  enjoy  a  high  reputation  in  Russia. 


163 


CHAPTER   VIII 

TEE  MIR,  OR  VILLAGE  COMMUNITY 

WHEN  I  had  gained  a  clear  notion  of  the 
peasant  family,  and  had  collected  some 
information  regarding  the  habits  and  oc- 
cupations of  the  peasantry,  I  turned  my  attention 
to  the  constitution  of  the  village.  This  was  a  sub- 
ject which  specially  interested  me,  because  I  was 
aware  that  the  Mir  is  the  most  peculiar  of  Russian 
institutions.  Many  years  before  visiting  Russia  I 
had  read  Haxthausen's  celebrated  work,  by  which 
the  peculiarities  of  the  Russian  village  system  were 
first  made  known  to  Western  Europe,  and  during 
my  stay  in  St.  Petersburg  I  had  often  been  in- 
formed by  intelligent,  educated  Russians  that  the 
rural  Commune  presented  a  practical  solution  of 
many  difficult  social  problems,  with  which  the  phi- 
losophers and  statesmen  of  the  West  had  long  been 
vainly  struggling.  An  institution  which  professes  to 
solve  satisfactorily  the  most  difficult  social  problems 
of  the  future  is  not  to  be  met  with  every  day,  even 
in  Russia,  which  is  specially  rich  in  materials  of 
study  for  the  student  of  social  science. 

On  my  arrival  at  Ivanofka  my  knowledge  of  the 
institution  was  of  I  hat  vague,  superficial  kind  which 

1G4 


THE  MIR 

is  commonly  derived  from  men  who  are  fonder  of 
sweeping  generalisations  and  rhetorical  declamation 
than  of  serious,  patient  study  of  phenomena.  I 
knew  that  the  chief  personage  in  a  Russian  village 
is  the  Selski  Starosta,  or  Village  Elder,  and  that  all 
important  Communal  affairs  are  regulated  by  the 
Selski  Skhod^  or  Village  Assembly.  Further,  I  was 
aware  that  the  land  in  the  vicinity  of  the  village 
belongs  to  the  Commune,  and  is  distributed  period- 
ically among  the  members  in  such  a  way  that  every 
able-bodied  peasant  possesses  a  share  sufficient,  or 
nearly  sufficient,  for  his  maintenance.  Beyond  this 
elementary  information  I  knew  little  or  nothing. 

My  first  attempt  at  extending  my  knowledge  was 
not  very  successful.  Hoping  that  my  friend  Ivan 
might  be  able  to  assist  me,  and  knowing  that  the 
popular  name  for  the  Commune  is  Mir,  which  means 
also  "  the  world,"  I  put  to  him  the  direct,  simple 
question,  "  What  is  the  Mir.'^" 

Ivan  was  not  easily  disconcerted,  but  for  once  he 
looked  puzzled,  and  stared  at  me  vacantly.  WTien 
I  endeavoured  to  explain  to  him  my  question,  he 
simply  knitted  his  brows  and  scratched  the  back  of 
his  head.  This  latter  movement  is  the  Russian  peas- 
ant's method  of  accelerating  cerebral  action;  but 
in  the  present  instance  it  had  no  practical  result. 
In  spite  of  his  efforts,  Ivan  could  not  get  much  fur- 
ther than  the  "Kak  vam  skazat'.'^"  that  is  to  say, 
"How  am  I  to  tell  you.'*" 

It  was  not  difficult  to  perceive  that  I  had  adopted 
an    utterly   false   method    of   investigation,    and    a 

165 


RUSSIA 

moment's  reflection  sufficed  to  show  me  the  absurdity 
of  my  question.  I  had  asked  from  an  uneducated 
man  a  philosophical  definition,  instead  of  extracting 
from  him  material  in  the  form  of  concrete  facts, 
and  constructing  therefrom  a  definition  for  myself. 
These  concrete  facts  Ivan  was  both  able  and  will- 
ing to  supply;  and  as  soon  as  I  adopted  a  rational 
mode  of  questioning,  I  received  an  abundant  supply 
of  most  interesting  information.  This  information, 
together  with  the  results  of  much  subsequent  con- 
versation and  reading,  I  now  propose  to  present  to 
the  reader  in  my  own  words. 

The  peasant  family  of  the  old  type  is,  as  we  have 
just  seen,  a  kind  of  primitive  association,  in  which 
the  members  have  nearly  all  things  in  common. 
The  village  may  be  roughly  described  as  a  primi- 
tive association  on  a  larger  scale. 

Between  these  two  social  units  there  are  many 
points  of  analogy.  In  both  there  are  common  inter- 
ests and  common  responsibilities.  In  both  there  is 
a  principal  personage,  who  is  in  a  certain  sense  ruler 
within,  and  representative  as  regards  the  outside 
world:  in  the  one  case  called  Khozain,  or  Head  of 
the  Household,  and  in  the  other  Starosta,  or  Village 
Elder.  In  both  the  authority  of  the  ruler  is  limited: 
in  the  one  case  by  the  adult  members  of  the  family 
and  in  the  other  by  the  Heads  of  Households.  In 
})oth  there  is  a  certain  amount  of  common  property: 
in  the  one  case  the  house  and  nearly  all  that  it  con- 
tains, and  in  the  other  the  arable  land  and  pas- 
turage.    In  })oth  cases  there  is  a  certain  amount  of 

16G 


THE  MIR 

common"  responsibility:  in  the  one  case  for  all  the 
debts,  and  in  the  other  for  all  the  taxes  and  Com- 
munal obligations.  And  both  are  protected  to  a  cer- 
tain extent  against  the  ordinary  legal  consequences 
of  insolvency,  for  the  family  cannot  be  deprived  of 
its  house  or  necessary  agricultural  implements,  and 
the  Commune  cannot  be  deprived  of  its  land,  by 
importunate  directors. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  are  many  important 
points  of  contrast.  The  commune  is,  of  course, 
much  larger  than  the  family,  and  the  mutual  rela- 
tions of  its  members  are  by  no  means  so  closely 
interwoven.  The  members  of  a  family  all  farm 
together,  and  those  of  them  who  earn  money  from 
other  sources  are  expected  to  put  their  savings  into 
the  common  purse;  whilst  the  households  compos- 
ing a  Commune  farm  independently,  and  pay  into 
the  common  treasury  only  a  certain  fixed  sum. 

The  Heads  of  Households  must  often  meet  to- 
gether and  consult  in  the  Village  Assembly,  and 
their  daily  occupations  must  be  influenced  by  the 
Communal  decrees.  They  cannot  begin  to  mow 
the  hay  or  plough  the  fallow  field  until  the  Village 
Assembly  has  passed  a  resolution  on  the  subject. 
If  a  peasant  becomes  a  drunkard,  or  takes  some 
equally  efiicient  means  to  become  insolvent,  every 
family  in  the  village  has  a  right  to  complain,  not 
merely  in  the  interests  of  public  morality,  but  from 
selfish  motives,  because  all  the  families  are  collec- 
tively responsible  for  his  taxes.  For  the  same  rea- 
son no  peasant  can  permanently  leave  the  village 

167 


RUSSIA 

without  the  consent  of  the  Commune,  and  this  con- 
sent will  not  be  granted  until  the  applicant  gives 
satisfactory  security  for  the  fulfilment  of  all  his 
actual  and  future  liabilities.  If  a  peasant  wishes  to 
go  away  for  a  short  time,  in  order  to  work  else- 
where, he  must  obtain  a  written  permission,  which 
serves  him  as  a  passport  during  his  absence;  and  he 
may  be  recalled  at  any  moment  by  a  Communal 
decree.  In  reality  he  is  rarely  recalled  so  long  as 
he  sends  home  regularly  the  full  amount  of  his 
taxes  —  including  the  dues  which  he  has  to  pay  for 
the  temporary  passport  —  but  sometimes  the  Com- 
mune uses  the  power  of  recall  for  the  purpose  of 
extorting  money  from  the  absent  member.  If  it 
becomes  known,  for  instance,  that  an  absent  mem- 
ber receives  a  good  salary  in  one  of  the  towns,  he 
may  one  day  receive  a  formal  order  to  return  at 
once  to  his  native  village,  and  be  informed  at  the 
same  time,  unofficially,  that  his  presence  will  be 
dispensed  with  if  he  will  send  to  the  Commune  a 
certain  amount  of  money.  The  money  thus  sent 
is  generally  used  by  the  Commune  for  convivial 
purposes.  Whether  this  method  of  extortion  is  fre- 
quently used  by  the  Communes,  I  cannot  confi- 
dently say,  but  I  suspect  that  it  is  by  no  means 
rare,  for  one  or  two  cases  have  accidentally  come 
under  my  own  observation,  and  I  know  that  the 
police  of  St.  Petersburg  have  been  recently  ordered 
not  to  send  back  any  peasants  to  their  native  vil- 
lages until  some  proof  is  given  that  the  ground  of 
recall  is  not  a  mere  pretext. 

108 


THE  MIR 

In  order  to  understand  the  Russian  village  sys- 
tem, the  reader  must  bear  in  mind  these  two  im- 
portant facts:  the  arable  land  and  the  pasturage 
belong  not  to  the  individual  houses,  but  to  the 
Commune,  and  all  the  households  are  collectively 
and  individually  responsible  for  the  entire  sum 
which  the  Commune  has  to  pay  annually  into  the 
Imperial  Treasury. 

In  all  countries  the  theory  of  government  and 
administration  differs  considerably  from  the  actual 
practice.  Nowhere  is  this  difference  greater  than 
in  Russia,  and  in  no  Russian  institution  is  it 
greater  than  in  the  Village  Commune.  It  is  neces- 
sary, therefore,  to  know  both  theory  and  practice; 
and  it  is  well  to  begin  with  the  former,  because  it 
is  the  simpler  of  the  two.  When  we  have  once 
thoroughly  mastered  the  theory,  it  is  easy  to  under- 
stand the  deviations  that  are  made  to  suit  pecul- 
iar local  conditions. 

According,  then,  to  theor^%  all  male  peasants  in 
every  part  of  the  Empire  are  inscribed  in  census 
lists,  which  form  the  basis  of  the  direct  taxation. 
These  lists  are  revised  at  irregular  intervals,  and 
all  males  ahve  at  the  time  of  the  "  revision,"  from 
the  new-born  babe  to  the  centenarian,  are  duly 
inscribed.  Each  Commune  has  a  list  of  this  kind, 
and  pays  to  the  Government  an  annual  sum  pro- 
portionate to  the  number  of  names  which  the  list 
contains,  or,  in  popular  language,  according  to  the 
number  of  "  revision  souls."  During  the  intervals 
between  the  revisions  the  financial  authorities  take 

169 


RUSSIA 

no  notice  of  the  births  and  deaths.  A  Commune 
which  has  a  hundred  male  members  at  the  time  of 
the  revision  may  have  in  a  few  years  considerably 
more  or  considerably  less  than  that  number,  but  it 
has  to  pay  taxes  for  a  hundred  members  all  the  same 
until  a  new  revision  is  made  for  the  whole  Empire. 

Now  in  Russia,  so  far  at  least  as  the  rural  popu- 
lation is  concerned,  the  payment  of  taxes  is  insepa- 
rably connected  with  the  possession  of  land.  Every 
peasant  who  pays  taxes  is  supposed  to  have  a  share 
of  the  arable  land  and  pasturage  belonging  to  the 
Commune.  If  the  Communal  revision  lists  contain 
a  hundred  names,  the  Communal  land  ought  to  be 
divided  into  a  hundred  shares,  and  each  **  revision 
soul"  should  enjoy  his  share  in  return  for  the  taxes 
which  he  pays. 

The  reader  who  has  followed  my  explanations  up 
to  this  point  may  naturally  conclude  that  the  taxes 
paid  by  the  peasants  are  in  reality  a  species  of 
rent  for  the  land  which  they  enjoy.  So  it  seems, 
and  so  it  is  sometimes  represented,  but  so  in  reality 
it  is  not.  When  a  man  rents  a  bit  of  land  he  acts 
according  to  his  own  judgment,  and  makes  a  volun- 
tary contract  with  the  proprietor;  but  the  Russian 
peasant  is  obliged  to  pay  his  taxes  whether  he 
desires  to  enjoy  land  or  not.  The  theory,  therefore, 
that  the  taxes  are  simply  the  rent  of  the  land,  will 
not  bear  even  superficial  examination.  Equally  un- 
tenable is  the  theory  that  they  are  a  species  of  land- 
tax.  In  any  reasonable  system  of  land-dues  the 
yearly  sum  imposed  bears  some  kind  of  proportion 

170 


THE   MIR 

to  the  quantity  and  quality  of  the  land  enjoyed; 
but  in  Russia  it  may  be  that  the  members  of  one 
Commune  possess  six  acres,  and  the  members  of  the 
neighbouring  Commune  seven  acres,  and  yet  the 
taxes  in  both  cases  are  the  same.  The  truth  is 
that  the  taxes  are  personal,  and  are  calculated 
according  to  the  number  of  male  *'  souls,'*  and  the 
Government  does  not  take  the  trouble  to  inquire 
how  the  Communal  land  is  distributed.  The  Com- 
mune has  to  pay  into  the  Imperial  Treasury  a  fixed 
yearly  sum,  according  to  the  number  of  its  *'  revis- 
ion souls,"  and  distributes  the  land  among  its  mem- 
bers as  it  thinks  fit. 

The  rural  Commune  is  a  living  institution,  whose 
spontaneous  vitality  enables  it  to  dispense  with  the 
assistance  and  guidance  of  the  written  law.  As  to 
its  thoroughly  democratic  character  there  can  be  no 
possible  doubt.  The  Elder  represents  merely  the 
executive  power.  All  the  real  authority  resides  in 
the  Assembly,  of  which  all  Heads  of  Households 
are  members.  The  simple  procedure,  or  rather  the 
absence  of  all  formal  procedure,  at  the  Assemblies, 
illustrates  admirably  the  essentially  practical  char- 
acter of  the  institution.  The  meetings  are  held  in 
the  open  air,  because  in  the  village  there  is  no  build- 
ing —  except  the  church,  which  can  be  used  only  for 
religious  purposes  —  large  enough  to  contain  all  the 
members;  and  they  almost  always  take  place  on 
Sundays  or  holidays,  when  the  peasants  have  plenty 
of  leisure.  Any  open  space,  where  there  is  suflBcient 
room  and  little  mud,  serves  as  a  Forum.     The  dis- 

171 


RUSSIA 

cussions  are  occasionally  very  animated,  but  there 
is  rarely  any  attempt  at  speech-making.  If  any 
young  member  should  show  an  inclination  to  indulge 
in  oratory,  he  is  sure  to  be  unceremoniously  inter- 
rupted by  some  of  the  older  members,  who  have 
never  any  sympathy  with  fine  talking.  The  whole  as- 
semblage has  the  appearance  of  a  crowd  of  people  who 
have  accidentally  come  together,  and  are  discussing  in 
little  groups  subjects  of  local  interest.  Gradually 
some  one  group,  containing  two  or  three  peasants 
who  have  more  moral  influence  than  their  fellows, 
attracts  the  others,  and  the  discussion  becomes  gen- 
eral. Two  or  more  peasants  may  speak  at  a  time, 
and  interrupt  each  other  freely  —  using  plain,  un- 
varnished language,  not  at  all  parliamentary  —  and 
the  discussion  may  become  for  a  few  moments  a 
confused,  unintelligible  noise,  "a  din  to  fright  a 
monster's  ear;"  but  at  the  moment  when  the  spec- 
tator imagines  that  the  consultation  is  about  to  be 
transformed  into  a  promiscuous  fight,  the  tumult 
spontaneously  subsides,  or  perhaps  a  general  roar  of 
laughter  announces  that  some  one  has  been  success- 
fully hit  by  a  strong  argumcntum  ad  hominem, or  biting 
personal  remark.  In  any  case  there  is  no  danger  of 
the  disputants  coming  to  blows.  No  class  of  men 
in  the  world  is  more  good-natured  and  pacific  than 
the  Russian  peasantry.  "When  sober  they  never 
fight,  and  even  when  under  the  influence  of  alcohol 
they  are  more  likely  to  be  violently  affectionate  than 
disagreeably  quarrelsome.  If  two  of  them  take  to 
drinking  together,  the  probability  is  that  in  a  few 

172 


THE  MIR 

minutes,  though  they  may  never  have  seen  each 
other  before,  they  will  be  expressing  in  very  strong 
terms  their  mutual  regard  and  affection,  confirming 
their  words  with  an  occasional  friendly  embrace. 

Theoretically  speaking,  the  Village  Parliament  has 
a  Speaker,  in  the  person  of  the  Village  Elder.  The 
word  Speaker  is  etymologically  less  objectionable 
than  the  term  President,  for  the  personage  in  ques- 
tion never  sits  down,  but  mingles  in  the  crowd  like 
the  ordinary  members.  Objection  may  be  taken  to 
the  word  on  the  ground  that  the  Elder  speaks  much 
less  than  many  other  members,  but  this  may  like- 
wise be  said  of  the  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. Whatever  we  may  call  him,  the  Elder  is 
officially  the  principal  personage  in  the  crowd,  and 
wears  the  insignia  of  office  in  the  form  of  a  small 
medal  suspended  from  his  neck  by  a  thin  brass  chain. 
His  duties,  however,  are  extremely  light.  To  call 
to  order  those  who  interrupt  the  discussion  is  no 
part  of  his  functions.  If  he  calls  an  honourable 
member  Durak  (blockhead),  or  interrupts  an  orator 
with  a  laconic  "Moltchi!"  (hold  your  tongue!), 
he  does  so  in  virtue  of  no  special  prerogative,  but 
simply  in  accordance  with  a  time-honoured  privi- 
lege, which  is  equally  enjoyed  by  all  present,  and 
may  be  employed  with  impunity  against  himself. 
Indeed,  it  may  be  said  in  general  that  the  phrase- 
ology and  the  procedure  are  not  subjected  to  any  strict 
rules.  The  Elder  comes  prominently  forward  only 
when  it  is  necessarj'  to  take  the  sense  of  the  meeting. 
On  such  occasions  he  may  stand  back  a  little  from 

173 


RUSSIA 

the  crowd  and  say,  "Well,  orthodox,  have  you 
decided  so?"  and  the  crowd  will  probably  shout, 
"Ladno!  ladno!"  that  is  to  say,  "Agreed!  agreed!" 

Communal  measures  are  generally  carried  in  this 
way  by  acclamation;  but  it  sometimes  happens 
that  there  is  such  a  decided  diversity  of  opinion  that 
it  is  difficult  to  tell  which  of  the  two  parties  has  a 
majority.  In  this  case  the  Elder  requests  the  one 
party  to  stand  to  the  right  and  the  other  to  the  left. 
The  two  groups  are  then  counted,  and  the  minority 
submits,  for  no  one  ever  dreams  of  opposing  openly 
the  will  of  the  "Mir." 

In  the  crowd  may  generally  be  seen,  especially 
in  the  northern  provinces,  where  a  considerable  por- 
tion of  the  male  population  is  always  absent  from 
the  village,  a  certain  number  of  female  peasants. 
These  are  women  who,  on  account  of  the  absence  or 
death  of  their  husbands,  happen  to  be  for  the  moment 
Heads  of  Households.  As  such  they  are  entitled 
to  be  present,  and  their  right  to  take  part  in  the 
deliberations  is  never  called  in  question.  In  matters 
afiFecting  the  general  welfare  of  the  Commune  they 
rarely  speak,  and  if  they  do  venture  to  enounce  an 
opinion  on  such  occasions  they  have  little  chance 
of  commanding  attention,  for  the  Russian  peasantry 
are  as  yet  little  imbued  with  the  modern  doctrines 
of  female  equality,  and  express  their  opinion  of 
female  intelligence  by  the  homely  adage:  "The  hair 
is  long,  but  the  mind  is  short."  According  to  one 
proverb,  seven  women  have  collectively  but  one 
soul,  and  according  to  a  still  more  ungallant  popu- 

174 


THE  MIR 

lar  saying,  women  have  no  souls  at  all,  but  only 
a  vapour.  Woman,  therefore,  as  woman,  is  not 
deserving  of  much  consideration,  but  a  particular 
woman,  as  Head  of  a  Household,  is  entitled  to  speak 
on  all  questions  directly  affecting  the  household 
under  her  care.  If,  for  instance,  it  be  proposed  to 
increase  or  diminish  her  household's  share  of  the 
land  and  the  burdens,  she  will  be  allowed  to  speak 
freely  on  the  subject,  and  even  to  indulge  in  a  little 
personal  invective  against  her  male  opponents.  She 
thereby  exposes  herself,  it  is  true,  to  uncomplimen- 
tary remarks ;  but  any  which  she  happens  to  receive 
she  will  probably  repay  with  interest  —  referring, 
perhaps,  with  pertinent  virulence  to  the  domestic 
affairs  of  those  who  attack  her.  And  when  argument 
and  invective  fail,  she  is  pretty  sure  to  try  the 
effect  of  pathetic  appeal,  supported  by  copious  tears 
—  a  method  of  persuasion  to  which  the  Russian 
peasant  is  singularly  insensible. 

As  the  Village  Assembly  is  really  a  representative 
institution  in  the  full  sense  of  the  term,  it  reflects 
faithfully  the  good  and  the  bad  qualities  of  the 
rural  population.  Its  decisions  are  therefore  usually 
characterised  by  plain,  practical  common  sense,  but 
it  is  subject  to  occasional  unfortunate  aberrations 
in  consequence  of  pernicious  influences,  chiefly  of 
an  alcoholic  kind.  An  instance  of  this  fact  occurred 
during  my  sojourn  at  Ivanofka.  The  question  under 
discussion  was  whether  a  kabdk,  or  gin-shop,  should 
be  established  in  the  village.  A  trader  from  the 
district  town  desired  to  establish  one,  and  offered  to 

175 


RUSSIA 

pay  to  the  Commune  a  yearly  sum  for  the  necessary 
permission.  The  more  industrious,  respectable  mem- 
bers of  the  Commune,  backed  by  the  whole  female 
population  of  the  locality,  were  strongly  opposed  to 
the  project,  knowing  full  well  that  a  kabak  would 
certainly  lead  to  the  ruin  of  more  than  one  house- 
hold ;  but  the  enterprising  trader  had  strong  arguments 
wherewith  to  seduce  a  large  number  of  the  members, 
and  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  decision  in  his  favour. 

The  Assembly  discusses  all  matters  affecting  the 
Communal  welfare,  and,  as  these  matters  have  never 
been  legally  defined,  and  there  is  no  means  of  appeal- 
ing against  its  decisions,  its  recognised  competence 
is  very  wide.  It  fixes  the  time  for  making  the 
hay  and  the  day  for  commencing  the  ploughing  of 
the  fallow  field;  it  decrees  what  measures  shall  be 
employed  against  those  who  do  not  punctually  pay 
their  taxes;  it  decides  whether  a  new  member  shall 
be  admitted  into  the  Commune  and  whether  an 
old  member  shall  be  allowed  to  change  his  domicile; 
it  gives  or  withholds  permission  to  erect  new  build- 
ings on  the  Communal  land;  it  prepares  and  signs 
all  contracts  which  the  Commune  makes  with  one 
of  its  own  members  or  with  a  stranger;  it  inter- 
feres, whenever  it  thinks  necessary,  in  the  domestic 
affairs  of  its  members;  it  elects  the  Elder  —  as  well 
as  the  Communal  tax-collector  and  watchman, 
where  such  offices  exist  —  and  the  Communal  herd- 
boy;  above  all,  it  divides  and  allots  the  Communal 
land  among  the  members  as  it  thinks  fit. 

Of  all  lliese  various  proceedings  the  reader  may 

17G 


THE  MIR 

naturally  assume  that  the  elections  are  the  most 
noisy  and  exciting.  In  reality  this  is  a  mistake. 
The  elections  produce  little  excitement,  for  the 
simple  reason  that,  as  a  rule,  no  one  desires  to  be 
elected.  Once,  it  is  said,  a  peasant  who  had  been 
guilty  of  some  misdemeanour  was  informed  by  an 
Arbiter  of  the  Peace  —  a  species  of  official  of  which 
I  shall  have  much  to  say  in  the  sequel  —  that  he 
would  be  no  longer  capable  of  filling  any  Commu- 
nal office;  and  instead  of  regretting  this  diminution 
of  his  civil  rights,  he  bowed  very  low,  and  respectfully 
expressed  his  thanks  for  the  new  privilege  which 
he  had  acquired.  This  anecdote  may  not  be  true, 
but  it  illustrates  the  undoubted  fact  that  the  Rus- 
sian peasant  regards  office  as  a  burden  rather  than 
as  an  honour.  There  is  no  civic  ambition  in  those 
little  rural  Commonwealths,  whilst  the  privilege  of 
wearing  a  bronze  medal,  which  commands  no  respect, 
and  the  reception  of  a  few  roubles  as  salary,  afford 
no  adequate  compensation  for  the  trouble,  annoy- 
ance, and  responsibility  which  a  Village  Elder  has  to 
bear.  The  elections  are  therefore  generally  very  tame 
and  uninteresting.  The  following  description  may 
serve  as  an  illustration. 

It  is  a  Sunday  afternoon.  The  peasants,  male  and 
female,  have  turned  out  in  Sunday  attire,  and  the 
bright  costumes  of  the  women  help  the  sunshine  to 
put  a  little  rich  colour  into  the  scene,  which  is  at  ordi- 
nary times  monotonously  grey.  Slowly  the  crowd 
collects  on  the  open  space  at  the  side  of  the  church. 
All  classes  of  the  population  are  represented.     On 

BD8SIA    I —  12  177 


RUSSIA 

the  extreme  outskirts  are  a  band  of  fair-haired,  merry 
children  —  some  of  them  standing  or  lying  on  the 
grass  and  gazing  attentively  at  the  proceedings,  and 
others  running  about  and  playing  at  tig.  Close  to 
these  stand  a  group  of  young  girls,  convulsed  with 
half -suppressed  laughter.  The  cause  of  their  merri- 
ment is  a  youth  of  some  seventeen  summers,  evi- 
dently the  wag  of  the  village,  who  stands  beside  them 
with  an  accordion  in  his  hand,  and  relates  to  them 
in  a  half -whisper  how  he  is  about  to  be  elected  Elder, 
and  what  mad  pranks  he  will  play  in  that  capacity. 
When  one  of  the  girls  happens  to  laugh  outright, 
the  matrons  who  are  standing  near  turn  round  and 
scowl;  and  one  of  them,  stepping  forward,  orders 
the  offender,  in  a  tone  of  authority,  to  go  home  at 
once  if  she  cannot  behave  herself.  Crestfallen,  the 
culprit  retires,  and  the  youth  who  is  the  cause  of 
the  merriment  makes  the  incident  the  subject  of 
a  new  joke.  Meanwhile  the  deliberations  have 
begun.  The  majority  of  the  members  are  chatting 
together,  or  looking  at  a  little  group  composed  of 
three  peasants  and  a  woman,  who  are  standing  a 
little  apart  from  the  others.  Here  alone  the  matter 
in  hand  is  being  really  discussed.  The  woman  is 
explaining,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  with  a  vast 
amount  of  useless  repetition,  that  her  "old  man," 
who  is  Elder  for  the  time  being,  is  very  ill,  and 
cannot  fulfil  his  duties. 

"  But  he  has  not  yet  served  a  year,  and  he'll  get 
better,"  remarks  one  peasant,  evidently  the  young- 
est of  the  little  group. 

178 


THE  MIR 

"Who  knows?'*  replies  the  woman,  sobbing.  "It 
is  the  will  of  God,  but  I  don't  believe  that  he'll  ever 
put  his  foot  to  the  ground  again.  The  Feldsher  has 
been  four  times  to  see  him,  and  the  doctor  himself 
came  once,  and  said  that  he  must  be  brought  to  the 
hospital." 

"And  why  has  he  not  been  taken  there?" 

"How  could  he  be  taken?  Who  is  to  carry  him? 
Do  you  think  he's  a  baby?  The  hospital  is  forty 
versts  off.  If  you  put  him  in  a  cart  he  would  die 
before  he  had  gone  a  verst.  And  then,  who  knows 
what  they  do  with  people  in  the  hospital?"  This 
last  question  contained  probably  the  true  reason 
why  the  doctor's  orders  had  been  disobeyed. 

"Very  well;  that's  enough;  hold  your  tongue," 
says  the  greybeard  of  the  little  group  to  the  woman; 
and  then,  turning  to  the  other  peasants,  remarks, 
"There  is  nothing  to  be  done.  The  Stanovoi  (offi- 
cer of  rural  police)  will  be  here  one  of  these  days, 
and  will  make  a  row  again  if  w^e  don't  elect  a  new 
Elder.     Whom  shall  we  choose?" 

As  soon  as  this  question  is  asked,  several  peas- 
ants look  down  to  the  ground,  or  try  in  some  other 
way  to  avoid  attracting  attention,  lest  their  names 
should  be  suggested.  When  the  silence  has  con- 
tinued a  minute  or  two,  the  greybeard  says,  "There 
is  Alexei  Ivanof;  he  has  not  served  yet!" 

"Yes,  yes,  Alexei  Ivanof!"  shout  half  a  dozen 
voices,  belonging  probably  to  peasants  who  fear 
they  may  be  elected. 

Alexei  protests  in  the  strongest  terms.    He  can- 

179 


RUSSIA 

not  say  that  he  is  ill,  because  his  big  ruddy  face 
would  give  him  the  lie  direct,  but  he  finds  half  a 
dozen  other  reasons  why  he  should  not  be  chosen, 
and  accordingly  requests  to  be  excused.  But  his 
protestations  are  not  listened  to,  and  the  proceed- 
ings terminate.  A  new  Village  Elder  has  been  duly 
elected. 

Far  more  important  than  the  elections  is  the  re- 
distribution of  the  Communal  land.  It  can  matter 
but  little  to  the  Head  of  a  Household  how  the  elec- 
tions go,  provided  he  himself  is  not  chosen.  He  can 
accept  with  perfect  equanimity  Alexei,  or  Ivan,  or 
Nikola'i,  because  the  office-bearers  have  very  little 
influence  in  Communal  affairs.  But  he  cannot  re- 
main a  passive,  indifferent  spectator  when  the  divi- 
sion and  allotment  of  the  land  come  to  be  discussed, 
for  the  material  welfare  of  every  household  depends 
to  a  great  extent  on  the  amount  of  land  and  of  bur- 
dens which  it  receives. 

In  the  southern  provinces,  where  the  soil  is  fer- 
tile, and  the  taxes  do  not  exceed  the  normal  rent, 
the  process  of  division  and  allotment  is  compara- 
tively simple.  Here  each  peasant  desires  to  get  as 
much  land  as  possible,  and  consequently  each  house- 
hold demands  all  the  land  to  which  it  is  entitled  — 
that  is  to  say,  a  number  of  shares  equal  to  the  num- 
ber of  its  members  inscribed  in  the  last  revision  list. 
The  Assembly  has,  therefore,  no  difficult  questions 
to  decide.  The  Communal  revision  list  determines 
the  number  of  shares  into  which  the  land  must  be 
divided,  and  the  number  of   shares  to  be  allotted 

180 


THE    MIR 

to  each  family.  The  only  difficulty  likely  to  arise 
is  as  to  which  particular  shares  a  particular  family 
shall  receive,  and  this  difficulty  is  commonly  obvi- 
ated by  the  custom  of  casting  lots.  There  may  be, 
it  is  true,  some  difference  of  opinion  as  to  when 
a  redistribution  should  be  made,  but  this  ques- 
tion is  easily  decided  by  a  simple  vote  of  the 
Assembly. 

Very  different  is  the  process  of  division  and  allot- 
ment in  many  Communes  of  the  northern  prov- 
inces. Here  the'  soil  is  often  very  unfertile  and  the 
taxes  exceed  the  normal  rent,  and  consequently  it 
may  happen  that  the  peasants  strive  to  have  as 
little  land  as  possible.  In  these  cases  such  scenes 
as  the  following  may  occur. 

Ivan  is  being  asked  how  many  shares  of  the 
Communal  land  he  will  take,  and  replies  in  a  slow, 
contemplative  way,  "I  have  two  sons,  and  there  is 
myself,  so  I'll  take  three  shares,  or  somewhat  less 
if  it  is  your  pleasure." 

"Less!"  exclaims  a  middle-aged  peasant,  who  is 
not  the  Village  Elder,  but  merely  an  influential 
member,  and  takes  the  leading  part  in  the  proceed- 
ings. "You  talk  nonsense.  Your  two  sons  are 
already  old  enough  to  help  you,  and  soon  they  may 
get  married,  and  so  bring  you  two  new  female 
labourers." 

"My  eldest  son,"  explains  Ivan,  "always  works 
in  Moscow,  and  the  other  often  leaves  me  in 
summer." 

"But  they  both  send  or  bring  home  money,  and 

181 


RUSSIA 

when  they  get  married,  the  wives  will  remain  with 
you." 

"God  knows  what  will  be,"  replies  Ivan,  passing 
over  in  silence  the  first  part  of  his  opponent's  re- 
mark.    "Who  knows  if  they  will  marry?" 

"You  can  easily  arrange  that!" 

"That  I  cannot  do.  The  times  are  changed  now. 
The  young  people  do  as  they  wish,  and  when  they 
do  get  married  they  all  wish  to  have  houses  of  their 
own.     Three  shares  will  be  heavy  enough  for  me!" 

"No,  no.  If  they  wish  to  separate  from  you,  they 
will  take  some  land  from  you.  You  must  take 
at  least  four.  The  old  wives  there  who  have  little 
children  cannot  take  shares  according  to  the  number 
of  souls." 

"He  is  a  rich  Muzhik!"  (peasant),  says  a  voice  in 
the  crowd.  "Lay  on  him  five  souls!"  (that  is  to  say, 
give  him  five  shares  of  the  land  and  of  the  burdens). 

"Five  souls  I  cannot!     By  God,  I  cannot!" 

"Very  well,  you  shall  have  four,"  says  the  lead- 
ing spirit  to  Ivan;  and  then,  turning  to  the  crowd, 
inquires,  "Shall  it  be  so?" 

"Four!  four!"  murmurs  the  crowd;  and  the  ques- 
tion is  settled. 

Next  comes  one  of  the  old  wives  just  refered  to. 
Her  husband  is  a  permanent  invalid,  and  she  has 
three  little  boys,  only  one  of  whom  is  old  enough  for 
field  labour.  If  the  revision  list  were  taken  strictly 
as  the  basis  of  distribution,  she  would  receive  four 
shares;  })ut  she  would  never  be  able  to  pay  four 
shares  of  the  Communal  burdens.     She  must  there- 

182 


THE    MIR 

fore  receive  less  than  that  amount.  When  asked 
how  many  she  will  take,  she  replies  with  downcast 
eyes,  "As  the  Mir  decides,  so  be  it!" 

"Then  you  must  take  three." 

"What  do  you  say,  little  father.'^"  cries  the  woman, 
throwing  off  suddenly  her  air  of  subservient  obedi- 
ence. "Do  you  hear  that,  ye  orthodox?  They 
want  to  lay  upon  me  three  souls!  Was  such  a  thing 
ever  heard  of?  Since  St.  Peter's  Day  my  husband 
has  been  bedridden  —  bewitched,  it  seems,  for  noth- 
ing does  him  good.  He  cannot  put  a  foot  to  the 
ground  —  all  the  same  as  if  he  were  dead;  only  he 
eats  bread!" 

"You  talk  nonsense,"  says  a  neighbour;  "he  was 
in  the  kabak  (gin-shop)  last  week." 

"And  you!"  retorts  the  woman,  wandering  from 
the  subject  in  hand;  "what  did  you  do  last  parish 
fete?  Was  it  not  you  who  got  drunk  and  beat 
your  wife  till  she  roused  the  whole  village  with  her 
shrieking?  And  no  further  gone  than  last  Sunday 
—  pfu!" 

"Listen!"  says  the  old  man,  sternly,  cutting  short 
the  torrent  of  invective.  "You  must  take  at  least 
two  shares  and  a  half.  If  you  cannot  manage  it 
yourself,  you  can  get  some  one  to  help  you." 

"How  can  that  be?  Where  am  I  to  get  the  money 
to  pay  a  labourer?"  asks  the  woman,  with  much 
wailing  and  a  flood  of  tears.  "Have  pity,  ye  ortho- 
dox, on  the  poor  orphans!  God  will  reward  you;" 
and  so  on,  and  so  on. 

After  the  number  of  shares  for  each  family  has 

183 


RUSSIA 

been  decided,  the  distribution  of  the  lots  gives  rise 
to  new  diflSculties.  The  famihes  who  have  manured 
plentifully  their  land  strive  to  get  back  their  old 
lots,  and  the  Commune  respects  their  claims  so  far 
as  these  are  consistent  with  the  new  arrangement; 
but  often  it  happens  that  it  is  impossible  to  con- 
ciliate private  rights  and  Communal  interests,  and 
in  such  cases  the  former  are  sacrifices  in  a  way  that 
would  not  be  tolerated  by  men  of  Anglo-Saxon  race. 
This  leads,  however,  to  no  serious  consequences. 
The  peasants  are  accustomed  to  work  together  in 
this  way,  to  make  concessions  for  the  Communal 
welfare,  and  to  bow  unreservedly  to  the  will  of  the 
Mir.  I  know  of  many  instances  where  the  peasants 
have  set  at  defiance  the  authority  of  the  police,  of 
the  provincial  governor,  and  of  the  central  Govern- 
ment itself,  but  I  have  never  heard  of  any  instance 
where  the  will  of  the  Mir  was  openly  opposed  by 
one  of  its  members. 

A  share  of  the  Communal  land  does  not  mean 
simply  a  plot  or  parcel  of  land;  on  the  contrary, 
it  always  contains  at  least  four,  and  may  contain 
a  large  number  of  distinct  plots.  We  have  here  a 
new  point  of  difference  between  the  Russian  village 
and  the  villages  of  Western  Europe. 

Communal  land  in  Russia  is  of  three  kinds:  the 
land  on  which  the  village  is  built,  the  arable  land, 
and  the  meadow  or  hay-field.  On  the  first  of 
these  each  family  possesses  a  house  and  garden, 
which  are  the  hereditary  property  of  the  family, 
and  are  never  affected    by  the  periodical   redistri- 

184 


THE    MIR 

butions.  The  other  two  kinds  are  both  subject  to 
redistribution,  but  on  somewhat  different  principles. 

The  whole  of  the  Communal  arable  land  is  first 
of  all  divided  into  three  fields,  to  suit  the  triennial 
rotation  of  crops  already  described,  and  each  field 
is  divided  into  a  number  of  long  narrow  strips  — 
corresponding  to  the  number  of  male  members  in 
the  Commune  —  as  nearly  as  possible  equal  to  each 
other  in  area  and  quality.  Sometimes  it  is  necessary 
to  divide  the  field  into  several  portions,  according 
to  the  quality  of  the  soil,  and  then  to  subdivide  each 
of  these  portions  into  the  requisite  number  of  strips. 
Thus  in  all  cases  every  household  possesses  at  least 
one  strip  in  each  field;  and  in  those  cases  where  sub- 
division is  necessary,  every  household  possesses  a 
strip  in  each  of  the  portions  into  which  the  field  is 
subdivided.  This  complicated  process  of  division 
and  subdivision  is  accomplished  by  the  peasants 
themselves,  with  the  aid  of  simple  measuring-rods, 
and  the  accuracy  of  the  result  is  truly  marvellous. 

The  meadow,  which  is  reserved  for  the  production 
of  hay,  is  divided  into  the  same  number  of  shares 
as  the  arable  land.  There,  however,  the  division 
and  distribution  take  place,  not  at  irregular  inter- 
vals, but  annually.  Every  year,  on  a  day  fixed  by 
the  Assembly,  the  villagers  proceed  in  a  body  to 
this  part  of  their  property,  and  divide  it  into  the 
requisite  number  of  portions.  Lots  are  then  cast, 
and  each  family  at  once  mows  the  portion  allotted 
to  it.  In  some  Communes  the  meadow  is  mown  by 
all  the  peasants  in  common,  and  the  hay  afterwards 

185 


RUSSIA 

distributed  by  lot  among  the  families;  but  this  sys- 
tem is  by  no  means  so  frequently  used. 

As  the  whole  of  the  Communal  land  thus  resembles 
to  some  extent  a  big  farm,  it  is  necessary  to  make 
certain  rules  concerning  cultivation.  A  family  may 
sow  what  it  likes  in  the  land  allotted  to  it,  but 
all  families  must  at  least  conform  to  the  accepted 
system  of  rotation.  In  like  manner,  a  family  can- 
not begin  the  autumn  ploughing  before  the  appointed 
time,  because  it  would  thereby  interfere  with  the 
rights  of  the  other  families,  who  use  the  fallow  field 
as  pasturage. 


186 


CHAPTER  IX 

TARTAR  VILLAGES 

WHEN  talking  one  day  with  a  landed  pro- 
prietor who  Hved  near  Ivanofka,  I  acci- 
dentally discovered  that  there  were  in 
the  neighbourhood  certain  villages,  the  inhabitants 
of  which  could  neither  speak  nor  understand  the 
Russian  language,  and  habitually  used  a  peculiar 
language  of  their  own.  With  an  illogical  hastiness 
worthy  of  a  genuine  ethnologist,  I  at  once  assumed 
that  these  must  be  the  remnants  of  some  aboriginal 
race. 

*'Des  aborigenes!"  I  exclaimed,  unable  to  recall 
the  Russian  equivalent  for  the  term,  and  knowing 
that  my  friend  understood  French.  "Doubtless 
the  remains  of  some  ancient  race  who  formerly  held 
the  country,  and  are  now  rapidly  disappearing. 
Have  you  any  Aborigines  Protection  Society  in  this 
part  of  the  world?" 

My  friend  had  evidently  great  difficulty  in  imag- 
ining what  an  Aborigines  Protection  Society  could 
be,  and  ventured  to  assert  that  there  was  nothing 
of  the  kind  in  Russia.  On  being  told  that  such  a 
society  might  render  valuable  services  by  protecting 
the  weaker  against  the  stronger  race,  and  collecting 

187 


RUSSIA 

important  materials  for  the  new  science  of  Social 
Embryolog}',  lie  looked  thoroughly  mystified.  As 
to  the  new  science,  he  had  never  heard  of  it,  and 
as  to  protection,  he  thought  that  the  inhabitants 
of  the  villages  in  question  were  quite  capable  of  pro- 
tecting themselves.  "I  could  invent,"  he  added, 
with  a  malicious  smile,  "a  society  for  the  protection 
of  all  peasants,  but  I  am  quite  sure  that  the  authori- 
ties would  not  allow  me." 

My  ethnological  curiosity  was  thoroughly  aroused, 
and  I  endeavoured  to  awaken  a  similar  feeling  in  my 
friend  by  hinting  that  we  had  at  hand  a  promising 
field  for  discoveries  which  might  immortalise  the 
fortunate  explorers;  but  my  efforts  were  in  vain. 
My  friend  was  a  portly,  indolent  man,  of  phlegmatic 
temperament,  who  thought  more  of  comfort  than 
of  immortality  in  the  terrestrial  sense  of  the  term. 
To  my  proposal  that  w^e  should  start  at  once  on  an 
exploring  expedition,  he  replied  calmly  that  the  dis- 
tance was  considerable,  that  the  roads  were  muddy, 
and  that  there  was  nothing  to  be  learned.  It  was 
already  time  to  have  our  zakuska  —  that  is  to  say, 
a  glass  of  vodka,  together  with  caviar,  raw  salt 
herring,  pickled  mushrooms,  or  some  such  viand 
as  an  appetiser  before  dinner.  ^Miy  should  we  sac- 
rifice a  comfortable  dinner  and  the  after-dinner 
siesta  to  an  expedition  of  the  kind.'^  The  villages 
in  question  were  like  other  villages,  and  their  in- 
habitants lived,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  in  the 
same  way  as  their  Russian  neighbours.  If  they 
had  any  secret  peculiarities  they  would  certainly 
i  188 


TARTAR   VILLAGES 

not  divulge  them  to  a  stranger,  for  they  were 
notoriously  silent,  gloomy,  morose,  and  uncommuni- 
cative. Everything  that  was  known  about  them, 
my  friend  assured  me,  might  be  communicated 
in  a  few  words.  They  belonged  to  a  Finnish  tribe 
called  Corelli,  and  had  been  transported  to  their 
present  settlements  in  comparatively  recent  times. 
In  answer  to  my  questions  as  to  how,  when,  and  by 
whom  they  had*  been  transported  thither,  my  in- 
formant replied  that  it  had  been  the  work  of  Ivan 
the  Terrible. 

Though  I  knew  at  that  time  little  of  Russian  his- 
tory, I  had  strong  reason  to  suspect  that  the  last 
assertion  was  invented  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  in 
order  to  satisfy  my  troublesome  curiosity,  and  ac- 
cordingly determined  not  to  accept  it  without  verifi- 
cation. The  result  showed  how  careful  the  traveller 
should  be  in  accepting  the  testimony  of  "intelligent, 
well-informed  natives."  On  further  investigation  I 
discovered,  not  only  that  the  story  about  Ivan  the 
Terrible  was  a  pure  invention  —  whether  of  my  friend 
or  of  the  popular  imagination,  w^hich  always  uses 
heroic  names  as  pegs  on  which  to  hang  traditions, 
I  know  not  —  but  also  that  my  first  theory  was  cor- 
rect. These  Finnish  peasants  turned  out  to  be  a 
remnant  of  the  aborigines,  or  at  least  of  the  oldest 
known  inhabitants  of  the  district.  The  Russian 
peasants,  who  now  compose  the  great  mass  of  the 
population,  are  the  intruders. 

I  had  long  taken  a  deep  interest  in  what  learned 
Germans  call  the  Vulkcnvanderung  —  that  is  to  say, 

189 


RUSSIA 

the  migrations  of  peoples  during  the  gradual  dis- 
solution of  the  Roman  Empire,  and  it  had  often 
occurred  to  me  that  the  most  approved  authorities, 
who  had  expended  an  infinite  amount  of  learning 
on  the  subject,  had  rarely  or  never  taken  the  trou- 
ble to  investigate  the  nature  of  the  process.  It  is 
not  enough  to  know  that  a  race  or  tribe  extended 
its  dominions  or  changed  its  geographical  position. 
We  ought  at  the  same  time  to  inquire  whether  it 
expelled,  exterminated,  or  absorbed  the  former  in- 
habitants, and  how  the  expulsion,  extermination,  or 
absorption  was  effected.  Now,  of  these  three  pro- 
cesses, absorption  was  in  all  probability  the  most 
frequent,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  in  Northern 
Russia  this  process  might  be  conveniently  studied. 
A  thousand  years  ago  the  whole  of  Northern  Russia 
was  peopled  by  Finnish  tribes,  and  at  the  present 
day  the  greater  part  of  it  is  occupied  by  peasants 
who  speak  the  language  of  Moscow,  profess  the 
orthodox  faith,  present  in  their  physiognomy  no 
striking  peculiarities,  and  appear  to  the  superficial 
observer  pure  Russians.  And  we  have  no  reason  to 
suppose  that  the  former  inhabitants  were  expelled 
or  exterminated,  or  that  they  gradually  died  out 
from  contact  with  the  civihsation  and  vices  of  a 
higher  race.  History  records  no  wholesale  migra- 
tions like  that  of  the  Kalmyks,  and  no  war  of  ex- 
termination; and  statistics  prove  that  among  the 
remnants  of  those  primitive  races  the  population 
increases  as  rapidly  as  among  the  Russian  peasan- 
try.    From  these  facts  I  concluded  that  the  Finnish 

190 


TARTAR   VILLAGES 

Aborigines  had  been  simply  absorbed  by  the  Sla- 
vonic intruders. 

This  conclusion  has  since  been  amply  confirmed 
by  observation.  During  my  wanderings  in  these 
northern  provinces  I  have  found  villages  in  every 
stage  of  Russification.  In  one,  everything  seemed 
thoroughly  Finnish:  the  inhabitants  had  a  reddish- 
ohve  skin,  very  high  cheek-bones,  obliquely-set  eyes, 
and  a  peculiar  costume;  none  of  the  women,  and 
very  few  of  the  men,  could  understand  Russian,  and 
any  Russian  who  visited  the  place  was  regarded  as 
a  foreigner.  In  a  second,  there  were  already  some 
Russian  inliabitants ;  the  others  had  lost  something 
of  their  pure  Finnish  type,  many  of  the  men  had 
discarded  the  old  costume  and  spoke  Russian  flu- 
ently, and  a  Russian  visitor  was  no  longer  shunned. 
In  a  third,  the  Finnish  type  was  still  further  weak- 
ened: all  the  men  spoke  Russian,  and  nearly  all  the 
women  understood  it;  the  old  male  costume  had 
entirely  disappeared,  and  the  old  female  costume 
was  rapidly  following  it;  and  intermarriage  with  the 
Russian  population  was  no  longer  rare.  In  a  fourth, 
intermarriage  had  almost  completely  done  its  work 
and  the  old  Finnish  element  could  be  detected  merely 
in  certain  peculiarities  of  physiognomy  and  accent. 

The  process  of  Russification  may  be  likewise 
observed  in  the  manner  of  building  the  houses  and 
in  the  methods  of  farming,  which  show  plainly  that 
the  Finnish  races  did  not  obtain  rudimentary  civili- 
sation from  the  Slavonians.  Whence,  then,  was  it 
derived.^    Was  it  obtained  from  some  other  race,  or 

191 


RUSSIA 

is  it  indigenous?  These  are  questions  as  to  which 
I  do  not  venture,  for  the  present,  even  to  hazard  a 
conjecture;  I  am  not  without  hope,  however,  that  I 
may,  by  future  travel  and  investigation,  be  able  to 
throw  some  light  on  the  subject. 

A  Positivist  poet  —  or  if  that  be  a  contradiction 
in  terms,  let  us  say  a  Positivist  who  wrote  verses  — 
once  composed  an  appeal  to  the  fair  sex,  beginning 
with  the  words,  if  my  memory  does  not  deceive  me  — 

"  Pourquoi,  O  femmes,  restez-vous  en  arriere?  " 

The  question  might  have  been  addressed  to  the 
women  in  these  Finnish  villages.  Like  their  sisters 
in  France,  they  are  much  more  conservative  than 
the  men,  and  oppose  much  more  stubbornly  the 
Russian  influence.  On  the  other  hand,  like  women  in 
general,  when  they  do  begin  to  change,  they  change 
more  rapidly.  This  is  seen  especially  in  the  matter 
of  costume,  which  has  more  importance  than  learned 
ethnologists  are  wont  to  suppose.  The  men  adopt 
the  Russian  costume  very  gradually;  the  women 
adopt  it  at  once.  As  soon  as  a  single  woman  gets 
a  gaudy  Russian  dress,  every  other  woman  in  the 
village  feels  envious  and  impatient  till  she  has  done 
likewise.  I  remember  once  visiting  a  village  when 
this  critical  point  had  been  reached,  and  a  very 
characteristic  incident  occurred.  In  the  preceding 
villages  through  which  I  had  passed  I  had  tried  in 
vain  to  buy  a  female  costume,  and  I  again  made  the 
attempt.  This  time  the  result  was  very  ditt'erent. 
A  few  minutes  after  I  had  expressed  my  wish  to 

192 


TARTAR   VILLAGES 

purchase  a  costume,  the  house  in  which  I  was  sitting 
was  besieged  by  a  great  crowd  of  women,  holding 
in  their  hands  articles  of  wearing  apparel.  In  order 
to  make  a  selection  I  went  out  into  the  crowd,  but 
the  desire  to  find  a  purchaser  was  so  general  and  so 
ardent  that  I  was  regularly  mobbed.  The  women, 
shouting  "Kupi!  kupi!"  ("Buy!  buy!"),  and  strug- 
gling with  each  other  to  get  near  me,  were  as  impor- 
tunate as  a  crowd  of  Italian  beggars,  and  I  had  at 
last  to  take  refuge  in  the  house,  to  prevent  my  own 
costume  from  being  torn  to  shreds.  But  even  then 
I  was  not  safe,  for  the  women  followed  at  my  heels, 
and  a  considerable  amount  of  good-natured  violence 
had  to  be  employed  to  expel  the  intruders. 

It  is  especially  interesting  to  observe  this  transfor- 
mation of  nationality  in  the  sphere  of  religious  con- 
ceptions. The  Finns  remained  pagans  long  after 
the  Russians  had  become  Christians,  but  at  the 
present  time  the  whole  population,  from  the  eastern 
boundary  of  Finland  Proper  —  which  runs  due  north 
from  a  point  near  St.  Petersburg  to  the  Polar  Ocean 
—  to  the  Ural  Mountains,  are  officially  described 
as  members  of  the  Greek  Orthodox  Church.  The 
manner  in  which  this  change  of  religion  was  effected 
is  well  worthy  of  attention. 

The  old  religion  of  the  Finnish  tribes,  if  we  may 
judge  from  the  fragments  which  still  remain,  had, 
like  the  people  themselves,  a  thoroughly  practical, 
prosaic  character.  Their  theology  consisted  not  of 
abstract  dogmas,  but  merely  of  simple  prescriptions 
for  the  ensuring  of  material  welfare.     Even  at  the 

RUSSIA   1—13  193 


RUSSIA 

present  day,  in  the  districts  not  completely  Russi- 
fied, their  prayers  are  plain,  unadorned  requests 
for  a  good  harvest,  plenty  of  cattle,  and  the  like, 
and  are  expressed  in  a  tone  of  childlike  familiarity 
that  sounds  strange  in  our  ears.  They  make  no 
attempt  to  veil  their  desires  with  mystic  solemnity, 
but  ask  in  a  simple,  straightforward  way  that  God 
should  make  the  barley  ripen  and  the  cow  calve 
successfully,  that  He  should  prevent  their  horses 
from  being  stolen,  and  that  He  should  help  them 
to  gain  money  to  pay  their  taxes.  Their  religious 
ceremonies  have,  so  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  dis- 
cover, no  hidden,  mystical  signification,  and  are  for 
the  most  part  rather  magical  rites  for  averting  the 
influence  of  malicious  spirits,  or  freeing  themselves 
from  the  unwelcome  visits  of  their  departed  relatives. 
For  this  latter  purpose  many,  even  of  those  who 
are  officially  Christians,  proceed  at  stated  seasons 
to  the  graveyards,  and  place  an  abundant  supply 
of  cooked  food  on  the  graves  of  their  relations 
who  have  recently  died,  requesting  the  departed 
to  accept  this  meal,  and  not  to  return  to  their  old 
homes,  where  their  presence  is  no  longer  desired. 
Though  more  of  the  food  is  eaten  at  night  by  the 
village  dogs  than  by  the  famished  spirits,  the  cus- 
tom is  believed  to  have  a  powerful  influence  in  pre- 
venting the  dead  from  wandering  about  at  night 
and  frightening  the  living.  If  it  be  true,  as  I  am 
inclined  to  believe,  that  tombstones  were  originally 
used  for  keeping  I  ho  dead  in  their  graves,  then  it 
must  be  adniiLled   that  in  the  matter  of  "laying" 

194 


TARTAR   VILLAGES 

ghosts  the  Finns  have  shown  themselves  much  more 
humane  than  other  races.  It  may,  however,  be  sug- 
gested that  in  the  original  home  of  the  Finns  —  ''le 
berceau  de  la  race^  as  French  ethnologists  say  — 
stones  could  not  easily  be  procured,  and  that  the 
custom  of  feeding  the  dead  was  adopted  as  a  'pis 
aller.  The  decision  of  the  question  must  be  left  to 
those  who  know  with  certainty  where  the  original 
home  of  the  Finns  was. 

The  Russian  peasantry,  though  nominally  Chris- 
tians, have  never  differed  very  widely  from  the 
pagan  Finns  in  the  matter  of  religious  conceptions. 
They,  too,  know  little  or  nothing  of  theology  as  we 
understand  the  term,  and  place  implicit  confidence 
in  rites  and  ceremonies.  Of  this  I  have  already 
spoken  in  a  former  chapter. 

The  friendly  contact  of  two  such  races  naturally 
led  to  a  curious  blending  of  the  two  religions.  The 
Russians  adopted  many  customs  from  the  Finns, 
and  the  Finns  adopted  still  more  from  the  Russians. 
When  Yumala  and  the  other  Finnish  deities  did  not 
do  as  they  were  desired,  their  worshippers  naturally 
applied  for  protection  or  assistance  to  the  Madonna 
and  the  "Russian  God."  If  their  own  traditional 
magic  rites  did  not  suffice  to  ward  off  evil  influences, 
they  naturally  tried  the  effect  of  crossing  themselves 
as  the  Russians  do  in  moments  of  danger.  All  this 
may  seem  strange  to  us  who  have  been  taught  from 
our  earliest  years  that  religion  is  something  quite 
different  from  spells,  charms,  and  incantations,  and 
that  of  all   the  various  religions  in  the  world  one 

195 


RUSSIA 

alone  is  true,  whilst  all  the  others  are  false.  But 
we  ought  to  remember  that  the  Finns  have  had  a 
very  different  education.  They  do  not  distinguish 
religion  from  magic  rites,  and  they  have  never  been 
taught  that  other  religions  are  less  true  than  their 
own.  For  them  the  best  religion  is  the  one  which 
contains  the  most  potent  spells,  but  they  see  no 
reason  why  less  powerful  religions  should  not  be 
blended  therewith.  Their  deities  are  not  jealous 
gods,  and  do  not  insist  on  having  a  monopoly  of 
devotion;  and  in  any  case  they  cannot  do  much  in- 
jury to  those  who  have  placed  themselves  under  the 
protection  of  a  more  powerful  divinity. 

This  simple-minded  eclecticism  often  produces  a 
singular  mixture  of  Christianity  and  paganism. 
Thus,  for  instance,  at  the  harvest  festivals,  Tchu- 
vash  peasants  have  been  known  to  pray  first  to 
their  own  deities,  and  then  to  St.  Nicholas,  the 
miracle  worker,  who  is  the  favourite  saint  of  the 
Russian  peasantry.  This  dual  worship  is  sometimes 
even  recommended  by  the  Yomzi  —  a  class  of  men 
who  correspond  to  the  medicine-men  among  the 
Red  Indians  —  and  the  prayers  are  on  these  occa- 
sions couched  in  the  most  familiar  terms.  Here  is 
a  specimen  given  by  a  Russian,  who  has  specially 
studied  the  language  and  customs  of  this  interesting 
people:^  "Look  here,  O  Nicholas-god!  Perhaps  my 
neighbour,  little  Michael,  has  been  slandering  me  to 
you,  or  perhaps  he  will  do  so.  If  he  does,  don't 
believe  him.     I  have  done  him  no  ill,  and  wish  him 

*  Mr.  2iolotaitski,  "  Tchuvasko-russki  slovar,"  p.  167. 

196 


TARTAR   VILLAGES 

none.  He  is  a  worthless  boaster  and  a  babbler. 
He  does  not  really  honour  you,  and  merely  plays 
the  hypocrite.  But  I  honour  you  from  my  heart; 
and,  behold,  I  place  a  taper  before  you!"  Some- 
times incidents  occur  which  display  a  still  more 
curious  blending  of  the  two  religions.  Thus  a 
Tcheremiss,  on  one  occasion,  in  consequence  of  a 
serious  illness,  sacrificed  a  young  foal  to  Our  Lady 
of  Kazan! 

Though  the  Finnish  beliefs  affected  to  some  extent 
the  Russian  peasantry,  the  Russian  faith  ultimately 
prevailed.  This  can  be  explained  without  taking 
into  consideration  the  inherent  superiority  of  Chris- 
tianity over  all  forms  of  paganism.  The  Finns  had 
no  organised  priesthood,  and  consequently  never 
offered  a  systematic  opposition  to  the  new  faith; 
the  Russians,  on  the  contrary,  had  a  regular  hier- 
archy closely  allied  to  the  civil  administration. 
In  the  principal  villages  Christian  churches  were 
built,  and  some  of  the  police-ofiicers  vied  with  the 
ecclesiastical  officials  in  the  work  of  making  converts. 
Besides  this  there  were  other  influences  tending  in 
the  same  direction.  If  a  Russian  practised  Finnish 
superstitions  he  exposed  himself  to  disagreeable  con- 
sequences of  a  temporal  kind;  if,  on  the  contrary, 
a  Finn  adopted  the  Christian  religion,  the  temporal 
consequences  that  could  result  were  all  advanta- 
geous to  him.  Many  of  the  Finns  graduall}^  became 
Christians  almost  unconsciously.  The  ecclesiastical 
authorities  were  extremely  moderate  in  their  demands. 
They  insisted  on  no  religious  knowledge,  and  merely 

197 


RUSSIA 

demanded  that  the  converts  should  be  baptised. 
As  the  converts  failed  to  understand  the  spiritual 
significance  of  the  ceremony,  they  commonly  offered 
no  resistance,  so  long  as  the  immersion  was  performed 
in  summer.  So  little  repugnance,  indeed,  did  they 
feel,  that  on  some  occasions,  when  a  small  reward 
was  given  to  those  who  consented,  some  of  the  new 
converts  wished  the  ceremony  to  be  repeated  several 
times.  The  chief  objection  to  receiving  the  Christian 
faith  lay  in  the  long  and  severe  fasts  imposed  by 
the  Greek  Orthodox  Church;  but  this  difficulty  was 
overcome  by  assuming  that  they  need  not  be  strictly 
observed.  At  first,  in  some  districts,  it  was  popu- 
larly believed  that  the  Icons  informed  the  Rus- 
sian priests  against  those  who  did  not  fast  as  the 
Church  prescribed;  but  experience  gradually  exploded 
this  theory.  Some  of  the  more  prudent  converts, 
however,  to  prevent  all  possible  tale-telling,  took 
the  precaution  of  turning  the  face  of  the  Icon  to 
the  wall  when  prohibited  meats  were  about  to  be 
eaten. 

This  gradual  conversion  of  the  Finnish  tribes, 
effected  without  any  intellectual  revolution  in  the 
minds  of  the  converts,  had  very  important  tem- 
poral consequences.  Community  of  faith  led  to 
intermarriage,  and  intermarriage  led  rapidly  to  the 
blending  of  the  two  races. 

If  we  compare  a  Finnish  village  in  any  stage  of 
Russification  with  a  Tartar  village,  of  which  the 
inhabitants  are  Mahometans,  we  cannot  fail  to  be 
struck  by  the  contrast.     In  the  latter,  though  there 

198 


TARTAR    VILLAGES 

may  be  many  Russians,  there  is  no  blending  of  the 
two  races.  Between  them  rehgion  has  raised  an 
impassable  barrier.  There  are  many  villages  in 
the  eastern  and  northeastern  provinces  of  European 
Russia  which  have  been  for  many  generations  half 
Tartar  and  half  Russian,  and  the  amalgamation  of 
the  two  nationalities  has  not  yet  begun.  Near  the 
one  end  stands  the  Christian  church,  and  near  the 
other  stands  the  little  Metchet,  or  Mahometan  house 
of  prayer.  The  whole  village  forms  one  Commune, 
with  one  Village  Assembly  and  one  Village  Elder; 
but,  socially,  it  is  composed  of  two  distinct  commu- 
nities, each  possessing  its  peculiar  customs  and  pecu- 
liar mode  of  life.  The  Tartar  may  learn  the  Russian 
language,  but  he  does  not  on  that  account  become 
Russianised.  It  must  not,  however,  be  supposed 
that  the  two  races  are  imbued  with  fanatical  hatred 
towards  each  other.  On  the  contrary,  they  live 
in  perfectly  good  fellowship,  elect  as  Village  Elder, 
sometimes  a  Russian  and  sometimes  a  Tartar,  and 
discuss  the  Communal  afifairs  in  the  Village  Assem- 
bly without  reference  to  religious  matters.  I  know 
one  village  where  the  good-fellowship  went  even  a 
step  further:  the  Christians  determined  to  repair 
their  church,  and  the  Mahometans  helped  them  to 
transport  wood  for  the  purpose!  All  this  tends  to 
show  that  under  a  tolerably  good  government,  which 
does  not  favour  one  race  at  the  expense  of  the 
other,  Mahometan  Tartars  and  Christian  Slavs  can 
live  peaceably  together. 

The  absence  of  fanaticism  and  of  that  proselytis- 

199 


RUSSIA 

ing  zeal,  which  is  one  of  the  most  proKfic  sources  of 
rehgious  hatred,  is  to  be  explained  by  the  peculiar 
religious  conceptions  of  these  peasants.  In  their 
minds  religion  and  nationality  are  so  closely  allied 
as  to  be  almost  identical.  The  Russian  is,  as  it 
were,  by  nature  a  Christian,  and  the  Tartar  a  Ma- 
hometan; and  it  never  occurs  to  any  one  in  these 
villages  to  disturb  the  appointed  order  of  nature.  On 
this  subject  I  hr.d  once  an  interesting  conversation 
with  a  Russian  peasant,  who  had  been  for  some  time 
living  among  Tartars.  In  reply  to  my  question  as 
to  what  kind  of  people  the  Tartars  were,  he  replied, 
laconically,  "Nitchevo"  —  that  is  to  say,  "nothing 
in  particular;"  and  on  being  pressed  for  a  more  defi- 
nite expression  of  opinion,  he  admitted  that  they 
were  very  good  people  indeed. 

*'And  what  kind  of  faith  have  they.''"  I  continued. 

*'A  good  enough  faith,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 

"Is  it  better  than  the  faith  of  the  Molokani?" 
The  Molokani  are  Russian  sectarians  —  closely  re- 
sembling Scotch  presbyterians  —  of  whom  I  shall 
have  more  to  say  in  the  sequel. 

"Of  course  it  is  better  than  the  Molokan  faith." 

"Indeed!"  I  exclaimed,  endeavouring  to  conceal 
my  astonishment  at  this  strange  judgment.  "Are 
the  Molokani,  then,  very  bad  people.^" 

"Not  at  all.  The  Molokani  are  good  and 
honest." 

"Why,  then,  do  you  think  their  faith  is  so  much 
worse  than  that  of  the  Mahometans?" 

"How  shall  I  tell  you?"    The  peasant  here  paused 

200 


TARTAR    VILLAGES 

as  if  to  collect  his  thoughts  and  then  proceeded 
slowly,  "The  Tartars,  you  see,  received  their  faith 
from  God  as  they  received  the  colour  of  their  skins, 
but  the  Molokani  are  Russians,  who  have  invented 
a  faith  out  of  their  own  heads!" 

This  singular  answer  scarcely  requires  a  com- 
mentary. As  it  would  be  absurd  to  tiy  to  make 
Tartars  change  the  colour  of  their  skins,  so  it  would 
be  absurd  to  try  to  make  them  change  their  religion. 
Besides  this,  such  an  attempt  would  be  an  unjusti- 
fiable interference  with  the  designs  of  Providence, 
for,  in  the  peasant's  opinion,  God  gave  Mahometan- 
ism  to  the  Tartars  just  as  he  gave  the  orthodox 
faith  to  the  Russians. 

The    ecclesiastical    authorities    do    not    formally 
adopt  this  strange  theory,  but  they  generally  act 
in  accordance  with  it.     There  is  little  official  propa- 
ganda among  the  Mahometan  subjects  of  the  Tsar, 
and  it  is  well  that  it  is  so;  for  an  energetic  propa- 
ganda would  lead  merely  to  the  stirring  up  of  any 
latent  hostility  which  may  exist  deep  down  in  the 
nature  of  the  two  races,  and  it  would  not  make  any 
real   converts.     The  Tartars   cannot   unconsciously 
imbibe  Christianity  as  the  Finns  have  done.     Their 
religion   is   not   a   rude,   simple   paganism   without 
theology  in  the  scholastic  sense  of  the  term,  but 
a    monotheism    as  exclusive   as  Christianity  itself. 
Enter  into  conversation  with  an  intelligent  man  who 
has  no  higher  religious  belief  than  a  rude  sort  of 
paganism,  and   you  may,  if  you    know   him    well 
and  make  a  judicious  use  of  your  knowledge,  easily 

201 


RUSSIA 

interest  him  in  the  touching  story  of  Christ's  hfe 
and  teaching.  And  in  these  unsophisticated  natures 
there  is  but  one  step  from  interest  and  sympathy  to 
conversion.  Try  the  same  method  with  a  Mussul- 
man, and  you  will  soon  find  that  all  your  efforts  are 
fruitless.  He  has  already  a  theology  and  a  prophet 
of  his  own,  and  sees  no  reason  why  he  should  ex- 
change them  for  those  which  you  have  to  offer. 
Perhaps  he  will  show  you  more  or  less  openly  that 
he  pities  your  ignorance,  and  wonders  that  you  have 
not  been  able  to  advance  from  Christianity  to  Ma- 
hometanism.  In  his  opinion  —  I  am  supposing  that 
he  is  a  man  of  education  —  Moses  and  Christ  were 
great  prophets  in  their  day,  and  consequently  he  is 
accustomed  to  respect  their  memory;  but  he  is  pro- 
foundly convinced  that,  however  appropriate  they 
were  for  their  own  times,  they  have  been  entirely 
superseded  by  Mahomet,  precisely  as  we  believe  that 
Judaism  was  superseded  by  Christianity.  Proud  of 
his  superior  knowledge,  he  regards  you  as  a  benighted 
polytheist,  and  may  perhaps  tell  you  that  the  ortho- 
dox Christians  with  whom  he  comes  in  contact  have 
three  Gods  and  a  host  of  lesser  deities  called  saints, 
that  they  pray  to  idols  called  Icons,  and  that  they 
keep  their  holy  days  by  getting  drunk.  In  vain  you 
endeavour  to  explain  to  him  that  saints  and  Icons 
are  not  essential  parts  of  Christianity,  and  that 
habits  of  intoxication  have  no  religious  significance. 
On  these  points  he  may  make  concessions  to  you, 
but  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  remains  for  him  a 
fatal  stumbling-block.     "You  Christians  had  a  great 

202 


TARTAR    VILLAGES 

prophet,"  he  will  say,  "but  you  deified  him,  and 
now  you  declare  that  he  is  the  equal  of  Allah.  Far 
from  us  be  such  blasphemy!  There  is  but  one  God, 
and  Mahomet  is  His  prophet." 


203 


CHAPTER  X 

TEE  TOWNS  AND  THE  MERCANTILE 

CLASSES 

COUNTRY  life  in  Russia  is  pleasant  enough 
in  summer  or  in  winter,  but  between  sum- 
mer and  winter  there  is  an  intermediate 
period  of  several  weeks,  when  the  rain  and  mud 
transform  a  country-house  into  something  very  like 
a  prison.  To  escape  this  durance  vile  I  determined 
at  the  beginning  of  October  to  leave  Ivanofka,  and 
chose  as  my  head-quarters  for  the  next  few  months 
the  town  of  Novgorod. 

For  this  choice  there  were  several  reasons.  I  did 
not  wish  to  go  to  St.  Petersburg  or  Moscow,  because 
I  foresaw  that  in  either  of  these  cities  my  studies 
would  certainly  be  interrupted.  In  a  provincial  town 
I  should  have  much  more  chance  of  coming  in  con- 
tact with  people  who  could  not  speak  fluently  any 
of  the  western  languages,  and  much  better  oppor- 
tunities of  studying  the  provincial  administration. 
Of  all  the  chief  towns,  Novgorod  ^  was  the  nearest, 
and  in  many  respects  the  most  interesting.  It  has 
had  a  curious  history  —  a  history  much  older  than 

'This  town  must  not  hr  confounded  with  Nizlini-Novgoro<l  —  that  is. 
Lower  Novgorod  —  on  the  Volga,  where  the  great  annual  fair  is  held. 

204 


MERCANTILE    CLASSES 

that  of  St.  Petersburg  or  even  of  Moscow  —  and 
it  still  possesses  many  venerable  historical  monu- 
ments. Though  now  a  town  of  third-rate  impor- 
tance—  a  mere  shadow  of  its  former  self  —  it  still 
contains  about  18,000  inhabitants,  and  is  the  ad- 
ministrative centre  of  the  province  in  which  it  is 
situated. 

At  about  eighty  miles  from  St.  Petersburg  the 
Moscow  Railway  crosses  the  Volkhof,  a  rapid,  muddy 
river,  which  connects  Lake  Ilmen  with  Lake  Ladoga. 
At  the  point  of  intersection  I  got  on  board  a  small 
steamer,  and  sailed  up  the  river  for  about  fifty 
miles.  The  journey  was  tedious,  for  the  country  is 
flat  and  monotonous,  and  the  steamer  did  not  make 
more  than  nine  knots  an  hour.  Towards  sunset 
Novgorod  appeared  on  the  horizon.  Seen  thus,  in 
the  soft  twilight,  the  town  appears  decidedly  pic- 
turesque. On  the  western  bank  of  the  river  stands 
the  kremlin,  a  slightly-elevated  piece  of  ground  sur- 
rounded by  high  brick  walls,  over  which  peep  the 
pointed  cupolas  of  the  cathedral.  On  the  opposite 
bank  stands  the  larger  part  of  the  town,  the  sky- 
line of  which  is  agreeably  broken  by  the  green  roofs 
and  pear-shaped  cupolas  of  many  churches.  Here 
and  there  a  bit  of  foliage  indicates  the  existence  of 
gardens.  Spanning  the  river  between  the  kremlin 
and  the  town  on  the  opposite  bank  is  a  long  stone 
bridge,  half  hidden  by  a  high  temporary  wooden 
bridge,  which  does  duty  —  or  at  least  did  duty  at 
that  time  —  for  the  older  structure.  Many  people 
asserted  then  that  the  temporary  structure  was  des- 

205 


RUSSIA 

lined  to  become  permanent,  because  it  yielded  a 
comfortable  revenue  to  the  officials  whose  duty  it 
was  to  keep  it  in  repair;  but  whether  this  unchari- 
table prediction  has  been  realised,  I  know  not. 

Those  who  wish  to  enjoy  the  illusions  produced  by 
scene-painting  and  stage-decorations  should  never  go 
behind  the  scenes.  In  like  manner  he  who  wishes 
to  preserve  the  delusion  that  Russian  towns  are 
picturesque  should  never  enter  them,  but  content 
himself  with  viewing  them  from  a  distance.  A  walk 
through  the  streets  inevitably  dispels  the  illusion, 
and  proves  satisfactorily  that  irregularity,  even 
when  combined  with  squalor,  is  not  necessarily 
picturesque. 

However  imposing  Russian  towns  may  look  when 
seen  from  the  outside,  they  will  generally  be  found  on 
closer  inspection  to  be  little  more  than  villages  in 
disguise.  If  they  have  not  a  positively  rustic,  they 
have  at  least  a  suburban,  appearance.  The  streets 
are  straight  and  wide,  and  are  either  miserably 
paved  or  not  paved  at  all.  Trottoirs  are  not  con- 
sidered indispensable.  The  houses  are  built  of  wood 
or  stone,  generally  one-storeyed,  and  separated  from 
each  other  by  spacious  yards.  Many  of  them  do 
not  condescend  to  turn  their  fagades  to  the  street. 
The  general  impression  produced  is  that  the  major- 
ity of  the  l)urglicrs  have  come  from  the  country, 
and  have  brought  their  country-houses  with  them. 
There  are  few  or  no  shops  with  merchandise  taste- 
fully arranged  in  the  window  to  tempt  the  passer-by. 
If  you  wish  to  make  purchases  you  must  go  to  the 

206 


MERCANTILE    CLASSES 

Gostinny  Dvor/  or  Bazaar,  which  consists  of  long 
symmetrical  rows  of  low-roofed  dimly-lighted  stores, 
with  a  colonnade  in  front.  This  is  the  place  where 
merchants  most  do  congregate,  but  it  presents  noth- 
ing of  that  bustle  and  activity  which  we  are  ac- 
customed to  associate  with  commercial  life.  The 
shopkeepers  stand  at  their  doors  or  loiter  about  in  the 
immediate  vicinity  waiting  for  customers.  From  the 
scarcity  of  these  latter  I  should  say  that  when  sales 
are  effected  the  profits  must  be  enormous.  In  the 
other  parts  of  the  town  the  air  of  solitude  and  lan- 
guor is  still  more  conspicuous.  In  the  great  square, 
or  by  the  side  of  the  promenade  —  if  the  town  is 
fortunate  enough  to  have  one  —  cows  or  horses  may 
be  seen  grazing  tranquilly,  without  being  at  all  con- 
scious of  the  incongruity  of  their  position.  And, 
indeed,  it  would  be  strange  if  they  had  any  such 
consciousness,  for  it  does  not  exist  in  the  minds 
either  of  the  police  or  of  the  inhabitants.  At  night 
the  streets  are  not  lighted  at  all  or  are  supplied 
merely  with  a  few  oil-lamps,  which  do  little  more 
than  render  the  darkness  visible,  so  that  cautious 
citizens  returning  home  late  often  arm  themselves 
with  lanterns.  A  few  years  ago  an  honourable 
town-counsellor  of  Moscow  opposed  a  project  for 
lighting  the  city  with  gas,  and  maintained  that 
those  who  chose  to  go  out  at  night  should  carry 
their  lamps  with  them.     The  objection  was  over- 

*  These  words  mean  literally  the  Guests'  Court  or  Yard.  The  Gosti — a 
word  which  is  etymologically  the  same  as  our  host  and  guest  —  were  origi- 
nally the  merchants  who  traded  with  other  towns  or  other  countries. 

207 


RUSSIA 

ruled,  and  Moscow  was  supplied  with  gas-lamps, 
but  very  few  of  the  provincial  towns  have  as  yet 
followed  the  example  of  the  ancient  capital. 

This  description  does  not  apply  to  St.  Petersburg 
and  Odessa,  but  these  cities  may  for  the  present  be 
left  out  of  consideration,  for  they  have  a  distinctly 
foreign  character.  The  genuine  Russian  towns  — 
and  Moscow  may  still  almost  be  included  in  the 
number  —  have  a  semi-rustic  air,  or  at  least  the 
appearance  of  those  retired  suburbs  of  a  large  city 
which  are  still  free  from  the  jurisdiction  of  the 
municipal  authorities. 

The  scarcity  of  towns  in  Russia  is  not  less  remark- 
able than  their  rustic  appearance.  I  use  the  word 
here  in  the  popular  and  not  in  the  official  sense. 
In  oflBcial  language  a  town  means  a  collection  of 
houses,  containing  certain  organs  of  administration, 
and  hence  the  term  is  sometimes  applied  to  petty 
villages.  Let  us  avoid,  then,  the  official  list  of  the 
towns,  and  turn  to  the  statistics  of  population. 
It  may  be  presumed,  I  suppose,  that  no  town  is 
worthy  of  the  name  unless  it  contains  at  least  10,000 
inhabitants.  Now,  if  we  apply  this  test,  we  shall 
find  that  in  the  whole  of  European  Russia  in  the 
narrower  sense  of  the  term  —  excluding  Finland,  the 
Baltic  Provinces,  Lithuania,  Poland,  and  the  Cau- 
casus, which  are  politically  but  not  socially  parts 
of  Russia  —  there  are  only  127  towns.  Of  these, 
only  twenty-five  contain  more  than  25,000,  and  only 
eleven  contain  more  than  50,000  inhabitants.^ 

*  These  are  — St.  Peteraburg,  668,000 ;  Moscow,  602,000 ;  Odessa,  121,000 ; 

208 


MERCANTILE    CLASSES 

These  facts  indicate  plainly  that  in  Russia,  as 
compared  with  Western  Europe,  the  urban  element 
in  the  population  is  relatively  small;  and  this  con- 
clusion is  borne  out  by  statistical  data.  In  Russia 
the  urban  element  composes  only  a  tenth  part  of 
the  entire  population,  whereas  in  Great  Britain 
more  than  one-half  of  the  inhabitants  are  dwellers 
in  towns.  A  serious  effort  to  discover  the  causes  of 
this  would  certainly  bring  out  some  striking  pecul- 
iarities in  the  past  history  and  present  conditions 
of  the  Russian  Empire.  I  have  myself  made  the 
attempt,  and  I  propose  now  to  communicate  a  few 
results  of  the  investigation. 

The  chief  cause  is  that  Russia  is  much  less  densely 
populated  than  Western  Europe.  Towards  the  East 
she  has  never  had  a  natural  frontier,  but  always  a 
wide  expanse  of  fertile,  uncultivated  land,  offering 
a  tempting  field  for  emigration;  and  the  peasantry 
have  ever  shown  themselves  ready  to  take  advantage 
of  their  geographical  position.  Instead  of  improving 
their  primitive  system  of  agriculture,  which  requires 
an  enormous  area  and  rapidly  exhausts  the  soil, 
they  have  always  found  it  easier  and  more  profitable 
to  emigrate  and  take  possession  of  the  virgin  land 
to  the  eastward.  Thus  the  territory  —  sometimes 
with  the  aid  of,  and  sometimes  in  spite  of,  the  Govern- 
ment —  has  constantly  expanded,  and  has  already 
reached  Behring's  Straits  and  the  northern  offshoots 
of  the  Himalayas.     The  little  district  around  the 

Kishin6f,  104,000;  Saratof,  93.000 ;  Kazan,  79,000 ;  Kief,  71,000 ;  Nikolaef, 
68,000 ;  Kharkof,  60,000 ;  Tula,  58,000  ;   Berditchef,  52,000. 

RUSSIA   1  —  14  209 


RUSSIA 

sources  of  the  Dnieper  has  grown  into  a  great  empire 
forty  times  as  large  as  France,  and  in  all  this  vast 
area  there  are  only  about  eighty  millions  of  inhabi- 
tants. Prolific  as  the  Russian  race  is,  its  powers  of 
reproduction  could  not  keep  pace  with  its  power  of 
territorial  expansion,  and  consequently  the  country 
is  still  very  thinly  peopled.  If  we  take  European 
Russia  as  a  whole,  we  find  that  the  population  is 
only  about  fourteen  to  the  square  verst,  whilst  in 
Great  Britain,  for  a  similar  area,  the  average  den- 
sity is  about  114.  Even  the  most  densely -populated 
region  —  the  northern  part  of  the  Black-earth  zone 
—  has  only  about  forty  to  the  square  verst.  A  peo- 
ple that  has  such  an  abundance  of  land,  and  can 
support  itself  by  agriculture,  is  not  likely  to  de- 
vote itself  to  industry,  and  not  likely  to  congregate 
in  towns. 

The  second  cause  which  hindered  the  formation 
of  towns  was  serfage.  Serfage,  and  the  administra- 
tive system  of  which  it  formed  a  part,  hemmed  the 
natural  movements  of  the  population.  The  nobles 
habitually  lived  on  their  estates,  and  taught  a  portion 
of  their  serfs  to  supply  them  with  nearly  everything 
they  required;  and  the  peasants  who  might  desire 
to  settle  as  artisans  in  the  towns  were  not  free  to  do 
so,  because  they  were  attached  to  the  soil.  Thus 
arose  those  curious  village  industries  of  which  I  have 
already  spoken. 

The  insignificance  of  the  Russian  towns  is  in 
part  explained  by  these  two  causes.  The  abun- 
dance of  land  tended  to  prevent  the  development  of 

i>10 


MERCANTILE    CLASSES 

industry,  and  the  little  industry  which  did  exist  was 
prevented  by  serfage  from  collecting  in  the  towns. 
But  this  explanation  is  evidently  incomplete.  The 
same  causes  existed  during  the  Middle  Ages  in 
Central  Europe,  and  yet,  in  spite  of  them,  flourishing 
cities  grew  up  and  played  an  important  part  in  the 
social  and  political  history  of  Germany.  In  these 
cities  collected  traders  and  artisans,  forming  a  dis- 
tinct social  class,  distinguished  from  the  nobles  on  the 
one  hand,  and  the  surrounding  peasantry  on  the 
other,  by  peculiar  occupations,  peculiar  aims,  peculiar 
intellectual  physiognomy,  and  pecuUar  moral  code. 

Towns  are  of  three  kinds:  (1)  "Government 
towns"  (gubernskie  goroda) — that  is  to  say,  the 
chief  towns  of  provinces,  or  "Governments"  (gu- 
bernii)  —  in  which  are  concentrated  the  various 
organs  of  provincial  administration;  (2)  District 
towns  (uyezdnie  goroda),  in  which  resides  the  ad- 
ministration of  the  districts  (uyezdi)  into  which 
the  provinces  are  divided;  and  (3)  Supernumerary 
towns  (zashtatnie  goroda),  which  have  no  partic- 
ular significance  in  the  territorial  administration. 

In  all  these  the  municipal  organisation  is  the  same. 
Leaving  out  of  consideration  those  persons  who  hap- 
pen to  reside  in  the  towns,  but  in  reality  belong 
to  the  noblesse,  the  clergy,  or  the  lower  ranks  of 
officials,  we  may  say  that  the  town  population  is 
composed  of  three  groups:  the  merchants  (kuptsi), 
the  burghers  in  tlie  narrower  sense  of  the  term 
(meshtchanye),  and  the  artisans  (tsekhoviye). 
These  categories  are  not  hereditary  castes,  like  the 

211 


RUSSIA 

nobles,  the  clergy,  and  the  peasantry.  A  noble 
may  become  a  merchant,  or  a  man  may  be  one  year 
a  burgher,  the  next  year  an  artisan,  and  the  third 
year  a  merchant,  if  he  changes  his  occupation  and 
pays  the  necessary  dues.  But  the  categories  form, 
for  the  time  being,  distinct  corporations,  each  possess- 
ing a  peculiar  organisation  and  peculiar  privileges 
and  obligations. 

Of  these  three  groups  the  first  in  the  scale  of 
dignity  is  that  of  the  merchants.  It  is  chiefly 
recruited  from  the  burghers  and  the  peasantry. 
Any  one  who  wishes  to  engage  in  commerce  inscribes 
himself  in  one  of  the  three  guilds,  according  to  the 
amount  of  his  capital  and  the  nature  of  the  opera- 
tions in  which  he  wishes  to  embark,  and  as  soon  as 
he  has  paid  the  required  dues,  he  becomes  oflBcially 
a  merchant.  As  soon  as  he  ceases  to  pay  these  dues 
he  ceases  to  be  a  merchant  in  the  legal  sense  of  the 
term,  and  returns  to  the  class  to  which  he  formerly 
belonged.  There  are  some  families  whose  mem- 
bers have  belonged  to  the  merchant  class  for  sev- 
eral generations,  and  the  law  speaks  about  a  certain 
"velvet-book"  (barkhatnaya  kniga)  in  which  their 
names  should  be  inscribed,  but  in  reality  they  do 
not  form  a  distinct  category,  and  they  descend  at 
once  from  their  privileged  position  as  soon  as  they 
cease  to  pay  the  annual  guild  dues. 

The  artisans  form  the  connecting  link  between 
the  town  population  and  the  peasantry,  for  peasants 
often  enrol  themselves  in  the  trades  corporations, 
or  Tsekhi,  without  severing  their  connection  with 

212 


MERCANTILE    CLASSES 

the  rural  Communes  to  which  they  belong.  Each 
trade  or  handicraft  constitutes  a  Tsekh,  at  the  head 
of  which  stands  an  elder  and  two  assistants,  elected 
by  the  members;  and  all  the  Tsekhi  together  form 
a  corporation  under  an  elected  head  (Remeslenny 
Golova),  assisted  by  a  council  composed  of  the 
elders  of  the  various  Tsekhi.  It  is  the  duty  of  this 
council  and  its  president  to  regulate  all  matters  con- 
nected with  the  Tsekhi,  and  to  see  that  the  multi- 
farious regulations  regarding  masters,  journey-men, 
and  apprentices  are  duly  observed. 

The  nondescript  class,  composed  of  those  who  are 
inscribed  as  permanent  inhabitants  of  the  towns,  but 
who  do  not  belong  to  any  guild  or  Tsekh,  constitutes 
what  is  called  the  burghers  in  the  narrower  sense  of 
the  term.  Like  the  other  two  categories,  they  form 
a  separate  corporation  with  an  elder  and  an  adminis- 
trative bureau. 

Some  idea  of  the  relative  numerical  strength  of 
these  three  categories  may  be  obtained  from  the 
following  figures.  In  European  Russia  the  merchant 
class  (including  wives  and  children)  numbers  about 
466,000,  the  burghers  about  4,033,000,  and  the 
artisans  about  260,000. 

The  link  of  connection  between  these  three  cate- 
gories is  the  Town  Council  (Gorodskaya  Ddma,  the 
central  and  highest  organ  of  the  municipal  admin- 
istration, with  its  president  the  Mayor  (Gorodskoi 
Golova).  A  few  years  ago  this  body  was  thoroughly 
reorganised  according  to  the  most  recent  theories 
of  municipal    administration;  and    now  all    hoflse- 

213 


RUSSIA 

proprietors,  to  whatever  class  they  belong,  may  take 
part  in  its  proceedings  and  serve  as  its  office-bearers. 
The  consequence  of  this  has  been  that  many  towns 
have  now  a  noble  as  mayor,  but  it  cannot  be  said 
that  the  spirit  of  the  institution  has  radically  changed. 
Very  few  seek  election,  and  those  who  are  elected 
display  very  little  zeal  in  the  discharge  of  their  duties. 
Not  long  ago  it  was  proposed,  in  the  Town  Council 
of  St.  Petersburg,  to  ensure  the  presence  of  a  quorum 
by  imposing  fines  for  non-attendance!  This  fact 
speaks  volumes  for  the  low  vitality  of  these  institu- 
tions. When  such  an  incident  occurs  in  the  capital, 
we  can  readily  imagine  what  takes  place  in  the 
provincial  towns. 

The  development  of  trade  and  industry  has,  of 
course,  enriched  the  mercantile  classes,  but  it  has 
not  affected  deeply  their  mode  of  life.  Amidst  new 
conditions  they  remain  in  many  respects  conserva- 
tive. When  a  Russian  merchant  becomes  rich,  he 
builds  for  himself  a  fine  house,  or  buys  and  thor- 
oughly repairs  the  house  of  some  ruined  noble,  and 
spends  money  freely  on  inlaid  floors,  gigantic  mirrors, 
malachite  tables,  grand  pianos  by  the  best  makers, 
and  other  articles  of  furniture  made  of  the  most 
costly  materials.  Occasionally  —  especially  on  the 
occasion  of  a  marriage  or  a  death  in  the  family  — 
he  will  give  magnificent  banquets,  and  expend  enor- 
mous sums  on  gigantic  sterlets,  choice  sturgeons, 
foreign  fruits,  champagne,  and  all  manner  of  costly 
delicacies.  But  all  this  lavish,  ostentatious  expendi- 
ture does  not  affect  the  ordinary  current  of  his  daily 

214 


MERCANTILE    CLASSES 

life.  As  you  enter  those  gaudily-furnished  rooms 
you  can  perceive  at  a  glance  that  they  are  not  for 
ordinary  use.  You  notice  a  rigid  symmetry  and 
an  indescribable  bareness  which  inevitably  suggest 
that  the  original  arrangements  of  the  upholsterer 
have  never  been  modified  or  supplemented.  The 
truth  is  that  by  far  the  greater  part  of  the  house 
is  used  only  on  state  occasions.  The  host  and  his 
family  live  down-stairs  in  small,  dirty  rooms,  fur- 
nished in  a  very  different,  and  for  them  more  com- 
fortable, stj^le.  At  ordinary  times  the  fine  rooms 
are  closed,  and  the  fine  furniture  carefully  covered. 
If  you  made  a  visite  de  politesse  after  an  entertain- 
ment at  which  you  have  been  present,  you  will 
probably  have  some  difficulty  in  gaining  admission 
by  the  front  door.  When  you  have  knocked  or 
rung  several  times,  some  one  will  probably  come 
round  from  the  back  regions  and  ask  you  what  you 
want.  Then  follows  another  long  pause,  and  at 
last  footsteps  are  heard  approaching  from  within. 
The  bolts  are  drawn,  the  door  is  opened,  and  you 
are  led  up  to  a  spacious  drawing-room.  At  the 
wall  opposite  the  windows  there  is  sure  to  be  a 
sofa,  and  before  it  an  oval  table.  At  each  end  of 
the  table,  and  at  right  angles  to  the  sofa,  there  will 
be  a  row  of  three  arm-chairs.  The  other  chairs 
will  be  symmetrically  arranged  round  the  room. 
In  a  few  minutes  the  host  will  appear,  in  his  long 
double-breasted  black  coat  and  well-polished  long 
boots.  His  hair  is  parted  in  the  middle,  and  his 
beard  shows  no  trace  of  scissors  or  razor.     After 

215 


RUSSIA 

the  customary  greetings  have  been  exchanged,  glasses 
of  tea,  with  sUces  of  lemon  and  preserves,  or  perhaps 
a  bottle  of  champagne,  are  brought  in  by  way  of 
refreshment.  The  female  members  of  the  family 
you  must  not  expect  to  see,  unless  you  are  an  inti- 
mate friend;  for  the  merchants  still  retain  something 
of  that  female  seclusion  which  was  in  vogue  among 
the  upper  classes  before  the  time  of  Peter  the  Great. 
The  host  himself  will  probably  be  an  intelligent 
but  totally  uneducated  and  decidedly  taciturn  man. 
About  the  weather  and  the  crops  he  may  talk  fluently 
enough,  but  he  will  not  show  much  inclination  to 
go  beyond  these  topics.  You  may  perhaps  desire 
to  converse  with  him  on  the  subject  with  which  he  is 
best  acquainted  —  the  trade  in  which  he  is  himself 
engaged;  but  if  you  make  the  attempt  you  will 
certainly  not  gain  much  information,  and  you  may 
possibly  meet  with  such  an  incident  as  once  hap- 
pened to  my  travelling  companion,  a  Russian  gentle- 
man, who  had  been  commissioned  by  two  learned 
societies  to  collect  information  regarding  the  grain 
trade.  Wlien  he  called  on  a  merchant  who  had 
promised  to  assist  him  in  his  investigations,  he  was 
hospitably  received,  but  when  he  began  to  speak 
about  the  grain  trade  of  the  district,  the  merchant 
suddenly  interrupted  him,  and  proposed  to  tell  him 
a  story.     The  story  was  as  follows :  — 

Once  on  a  time  a  rich  landed  proprietor  had  a  son, 
who  was  a  thoroughly  spoilt  child;  and  one  day  the 
boy  said  to  his  father  that  he  wished  all  the  young 
serfs  to  come  and  sing  before  the  door  of  the  house. 

216 


MERCANTILE    CLASSES 

After  some  attempts  at  dissuasion  the  request  was 
granted,  and  the  young  people  assembled;  but  as 
soon  as  they  began  to  sing,  the  boy  rushed  out  and 
drove  them  away. 

When  the  merchant  had  told  this  apparently 
pointless  story  at  great  length,  and  with  much 
circumstantial  detail,  he  paused  a  little,  poured 
some  tea  into  his  saucer,  drank  it  off,  and  then 
inquired,  "Now  what  do  you  think  was  the  reason 
of  this  strange  conduct?" 

My  friend  replied  that  the  riddle  surpassed  his 
powers  of  divination. 

"Well,"  said  the  merchant,  looking  hard  at  him, 
with  a  knowing  grin,  "there  was  no  reason;  and  all 
the  boy  could  say  was,  'Go  away,  go  away!'  I've 
changed  my  mind;  I've  changed  my  mind!'"  (poshli 
von;  otkliotyel). 

There  was  no  possibility  of  mistaking  the  point 
of  the  story.  My  friend  took  the  hint  and  de- 
parted. 

The  Russian  merchant's  love  of  ostentation  is  of 
a  peculiar  kind  —  something  entirely  different  from 
English  snobbery  and  American  shoddyism.  He 
may  delight  in  gaudy  reception-rooms,  magnificent 
dinners,  fast  trotters,  costly  furs;  or  he  may  dis- 
play his  riches  by  princely  donations  to  churches, 
monasteries,  or  benevolent  institutions:  but  in  all 
this  he  never  affects  to  be  other  than  he  really  is. 
He  habitually  wears  a  costume  which  designates 
plainly  his  social  position,  makes  no  attempt  to  adopt 
fine  manners  or  elegant  tastes,  and  never  seeks  to 

217 


RUSSIA 

gain  admission  to  what  is  called  in  Russia  la  societe. 
Having  no  desire  to  seem  what  he  is  not,  he  has  a 
plain,  unaffected  manner,  and  sometimes  a  certain 
quiet  dignity,  which  contrasts  favourably  with  the 
affected  manner  of  those  nobles  of  the  lower  ranks 
who  make  pretensions  to  being  highly  educated  and 
strive  to  adopt  the  outward  forms  of  French  culture. 
At  his  great  dinners,  it  is  true,  the  merchant  likes  to 
see  among  his  guests  as  many  "generals"  —  that  is 
to  say,  official  personages  —  as  possible,  and  espe- 
cially those  who  happen  to  have  a  grand  cordon; 
but  he  never  dreams  of  thereby  establishing  an 
intimacy  with  these  personages,  or  of  being  invited 
by  them  in  return.  It  is  perfectly  understood  by 
both  parties  that  nothing  of  the  kind  is  meant. 
The  invitation  is  given  and  accepted  from  quite 
different  motives.  The  merchant  has  the  satisfac- 
tion of  seeing  at  his  table  men  of  high  official  rank, 
and  feels  that  the  consideration  which  he  enjoys 
among  people  of  his  own  class  is  thereby  augmented. 
If  he  succeeds  in  obtaining  the  presence  of  three 
generals,  he  obtains  a  victory  over  a  rival  who 
cannot  obtain  more  than  two.  The  general,  on 
his  side,  gets  a  first-rate  dinner  and  acquires,  in 
return  for  the  honour  he  has  conferred,  a  certain 
undefined  right  to  request  subscriptions  for  public 
objects  or  benevolent  institutions. 

Of  course  this  undefined  right  is  commonly  noth- 
ing more  than  a  mere  tacit  understanding,  but  in 
certain  cases  the  subject  is  expressly  mentioned.  I 
know  of  one  case  in  which  a  regular  bargain  was 

218 


MERCANTILE    CLASSES 

made.  A  Moscow  magnate  was  invited  by  a  mer- 
chant to  a  dinner,  and  consented  to  go  in  full  uniform, 
with  all  his  decorations,  on  condition  that  the  mer- 
chant should  subscribe  a  certain  sum  to  a  benevolent 
institution  in  which  he  was  particularly  interested. 
It  is  whispered  that  such  bargains  are  sometimes 
made,  not  on  behalf  of  benevolent  institutions, 
but  simply  in  the  interest  of  the  gentleman  who 
accepts  the  invitation.  I  cannot  believe  that  there 
are  many  official  personages  who  would  consent  to 
let  themselves  out  as  table  decorations,  but  that 
it  may  happen  is  proved  by  the  following  incident, 
which  accidentally  came  to  my  knowledge.     A  rich 

merchant  of  the  town  of  T once  requested  the 

Governor  of  the  Province  to  honour  a  family  fes- 
tivity with  his  presence,  and  added  that  he  would 
consider  it  a  special  favour  if  the  "  Governoress " 
would  enter  an  appearance.  To  this  latter  request 
his  Excellency  made  many  objections,  and  at  last 
let  the  petitioner  understand  that  her  Excellency 
could  not  possibly  be  present,  because  she  had  no 
velvet  dress  that  could  bear  comparison  with  those 
of  several  merchants'  wives  who  would  be  present. 
Two  days  after  the  interview  a  piece  of  the  finest 
velvet  that  could  be  procured  in  Moscow  was  received 
by  the  Governor,  from  an  unknown  donor,  and  his 
wife  was  thus  enabled  to  be  present  at  the  fes- 
tivity, to  the  complete  satisfaction  of  all  parties 
concerned. 

It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  the  merchants  recog- 
nise no  aristocracy  but  that  of  official  rank.     Many 

219 


RUSSIA 

merchants  would  willingly  give  twenty  pounds  for 
the  presence  of  an  "actual  State-Counsellor,"  who, 
perhaps,  never  heard  of  his  grandfather,  but  who 
can  show  a  grand  cordon;  whilst  they  would  not  give 
twenty  pence  for  the  presence  of  an  undecorated 
Prince  who  has  no  official  rank,  though  he  can  trace 
his  pedigree  up  to  the  half-mythical  Rurik.  Of  the 
latter  they  would  probably  say,  *'Kto  ikh  znaet?" 
—  who  knows  what  sort  of  a  fellow  he  is?  The 
former,  on  the  contrary,  whoever  his  father  and 
grandfather  may  have  been,  possesses  unmistakable 
marks  of  the  Tsar's  favour,  which,  in  the  mer- 
chant's opinion,  is  infinitely  more  important  than 
any  rights  or  pretensions  founded  on  hereditary 
titles  or  long  pedigrees.  ^ 

These  marks  of  Imperial  favour  the  merchants 
strive  to  obtain  for  themselves.  They  do  not  dream 
of  grands  cordons  —  that  is  far  beyond  their  most 
sanguine  expectations  —  but  they  do  all  in  their 
power  to  obtain  those  lesser  decorations  which  are 
granted  to  the  mercantile  class.  For  this  purpose 
the  most  common  expedient  is  a  liberal  subscription 
to  some  benevolent  institution,  and  sometimes  a 
regular  bargain  is  made.  I  know  at  least  of  one 
instance  where  the  kind  of  decoration  was  expressly 
stipulated.  The  affair  illustrates  so  well  the  com- 
mercial character  of  these  transactions  that  I 
venture  to  state  the  facts  as  related  to  me  by  the 
official  chiefly  concerned.  A  merchant  subscribed 
to  a  society,  which  enjoyed  the  patronage  of  a 
Grand    Duchess,    a    considerable    sum    of    money, 

220 


MERCANTILE    CLASSES 

under  the  express  condition  that  he  should  re- 
ceive in  return  a  St.  Vladimir  Cross.  Instead  of  the 
desired  decoration,  which  was  considered  too  much 
for  the  sum  subscribed,  a  cross  of  St.  Stanislas  was 
granted;  but  the  donor  was  dissatisfied  with  the 
latter  and  demanded  that  his  money  should  be 
returned  to  him.  The  demand  had  to  be  com- 
plied with,  and,  as  an  Imperial  gift  cannot  be  re- 
tracted, the  merchant  had  his  Stanislas  Cross  for 
nothing. 

This  traffic  in  decorations  has  had  its  natural 
result.  Like  paper-money  issued  in  too  large  quan- 
tities, the  decorations  have  fallen  in  value.  The 
gold  medals  which  were  formerly  much  coveted  and 
worn  with  pride  —  suspended  by  a  ribbon  round 
the  neck  —  are  now  little  desired.  In  like  manner 
the  inordinate  respect  for  official  personages  has 
considerably  diminished.  Twenty  years  ago  the 
provincial  merchants  vied  with  each  other  in  their 
desire  to  entertain  any  great  dignitary  who  hon- 
oured their  town  with  a  visit,  but  now  they  seek 
rather  to  avoid  this  expensive  and  barren  honour. 
When,  however,  they  do  accept  the  honour,  they 
fulfil  the  duties  of  hospitality  in  a  most  liberal 
spirit.  When  living  in  a  merchant's  house  in  com- 
pany with  an  official  personage,  I  have  sometimes 
found  it  difficult  to  obtain  anything  simpler  than 
sterlet,  sturgeon,  and  champagne. 

The  two  great  blemishes  on  the  character  of  the 
Russian  merchants  as  a  class  are,  according  to 
general  opinion,  their  ignorance  and  their  dishonesty. 

221 


RUSSIA 

As  to  the  former  of  these  there  cannot  possibly  be 
any  difference  of  opinion.  The  great  majority  of 
the  merchants  do  not  possess  even  the  rudiments 
of  education.  Many  of  them  can  neither  read  nor 
write,  and  are  forced  to  keep  their  accounts  in  their 
memory,  or  by  means  of  ingenious  hieroglyphics,  in- 
telligible only  to  the  inventor.  Others  can  decipher 
the  calendar  and  the  lives  of  the  saints,  can  sign 
their  names  with  tolerable  facility,  and  can  make 
the  simpler  arithmetical  calculations  with  the  help 
of  a  little  calculating  instrument  called  "stchety," 
which  resembles  the  "abaca"  of  the  old  Romans, 
and  is  universally  used  in  Russia.  It  is  only  the 
minority  who  understand  the  mysteries  of  regular 
book-keeping,  and  of  these  very  few  can  make  any 
pretensions  to  being  educated  men.  Already,  how- 
ever, symptoms  of  a  change  for  the  better  in  this 
respect  are  noticeable.  Some  of  the  rich  merchants 
are  now  giving  to  their  children  the  best  education 
which  can  be  procured,  and  already  a  few  young 
merchants  may  be  found  who  can  speak  one  or  two 
foreign  languages  and  may  fairly  be  called  educated 
men.  Unfortunately  many  of  these  forsake  the 
occupations  of  their  forefathers  and  seek  distinction 
elsewhere.  In  this  way  the  mercantile  class  con- 
stantly loses  a  considerable  portion  of  that  valuable 
leaven  which  may  ultimately  leaven  the  whole 
lump. 

As  to  the  dishonesty  which  is  said  to  be  so  com- 
mon among  the  Russian  commercial  classes,  it  is 
difficult  to  form  an  accurate  judgment.     That  an 

222 


MERCANTILE    CLASSES 

enormous  amount  of  unfair  dealing  does  exist  there 
can  be  no  possible  doubt,  but  it  must  be  admitted 
that  in  this  matter  a  foreigner  is  likely  to  be 
unduly  severe.  We  are  apt  to  apply  unflinchingly 
our  own  standard  of  commercial  morality,  and  to 
forget  that  trade  in  Russia  is  only  emerging  from 
that  primitive  condition  in  which  fixed  prices  and 
moderate  profits  are  entirely  unknown.  And  when 
we  happen  to  detect  positive  dishonesty,  it  seems 
to  us  especially  heinous,  because  the  trickery  em- 
ployed is  more  primitive  and  awkward  than  that 
to  which  we  are  accustomed.  Trickery  in  weigh- 
ing and  measuring,  for  instance,  which  is  by  no 
means  uncommon  in  Russia,  is  likely  to  make  us 
more  indignant  than  those  ingenious  methods  of 
adulteration  which  are  practised  nearer  home,  and 
are  regarded  by  many  as  almost  legitimate.  Besides 
this,  foreigners  who  go  to  Russia  and  embark 
in  speculations  without  possessing  any  adequate 
knowledge  of  the  character,  customs,  and  language 
of  the  people  positively  invite  spoliation,  and  ought 
to  blame  themselves  rather  than  the  people  who 
profit  by  their  ignorance  and  inexperience.  All  this, 
and  much  more  of  the  same  kind,  may  be  fairly 
urged  in  mitigation  of  the  severe  judgments  which 
foreign  merchants  commonly  pass  on  Russian  com- 
mercial morality,  but  these  judgments  cannot  be 
reversed  by  such  argumentation.  The  dishonesty 
and  rascality  which  exist  among  the  merchants  are 
fully  recognised  by  the  Russians  themselves.  In 
all  moral  affairs  the   lower   classes   in   Russia   are 

223 


RUSSIA 

very  lenient  in  their  judgments,  and  are  strongly 
disposed,  like  the  Americans,  to  admire  what  is 
called  in  American  phraseology  "a  smart  man," 
though  the  smartness  is  known  to  contain  a  large 
admixture  of  dishonesty;  and  yet  the  vox  populi  in 
Russia  emphatically  declares  that  the  merchants  as 
a  class  are  unscrupulous  and  dishonest.  There  is 
a  rude  popular  play,  in  which  the  Devil,  as  prin- 
cipal dramatis  persona,  succeeds  in  cheating  all 
manner  and  conditions  of  men,  but  is  finally  over- 
reached by  a  genuine  Russian  merchant.  When 
this  play  is  acted  in  the  Carnival  Theatre  in  St. 
Petersburg,  the  audience  invariably  agree  with  the 
moral  of  the  plot. 

If  this  play  were  acted  in  the  southern  towns 
near  the  coast  of  the  Black  Sea  it  would  be  nec- 
essary to  modify  it  considerably,  for  here,  in 
company  with  Jews,  Greeks,  and  Armenians,  the 
Russian  merchants  seem  honest  by  comparison. 
As  to  Greeks  and  Armenians,  I  know  not  which 
of  the  two  nationalities  deserves  the  palm,  but  it 
seems  that  both  are  surpassed  by  the  Children  of 
Israel.  "How  these  Jews  do  business,'*  I  have 
heard  a  Russian  merchant  of  this  region  exclaim, 
"I  cannot  understand.  They  buy  up  wheat  in  the 
villages  at  eleven  roubles  per  Tchetvert,  transport 
it  to  the  coast  at  their  own  expense,  and  sell  it  to 
the  exporters  at  ten  roubles!  And  yet  they  con- 
trive to  make  a  profit!  It  is  said  that  the  Rus- 
sian trader  is  cunning,  but  here  'our  brother'  {i.e., 
the  Russian)  can  do  nothing."     The  truth  of  this 

224 


'Jl 

Q 
O 

< 

I 

H 

« 


MERCANTILE    CLASSES 

statement  I  have  Lad  abundant  opportunities  of 
confirming. 

If  I  might  express  a  general  opinion  regarding 
Russian  commercial  morahty,  I  should  say  that 
trade  in  Russia  is  carried  on  very  much  on  the 
same  principles  as  horse-dealing. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  unsatisfactory 
organisation  of  the  Russian  commercial  world  is 
the  result  of  any  radical  peculiarity  of  the  Russian 
character.  All  new  countries  have  to  pass  through 
a  similar  state  of  things,  and  in  Russia  there  are 
already  premonitory  symptoms  of  a  change  for  the 
better.  For  the  present,  it  is  true,  the  extensive 
construction  of  railways  and  the  rapid  development 
of  banks  and  limited  liability  companies  have  opened 
up  a  new  and  wide  field  for  all  kinds  of  commercial 
swindling;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  there  are  now  in 
every  large  town  a  certain  number  of  merchants 
who  carry  on  business  in  the  West-European  man- 
ner, and  have  learnt  by  experience  that  honesty  is 
the  best  policy.  The  success  which  many  of  these 
have  obtained  will  doubtless  cause  their  example 
to  be  followed.  The  old  spirit  of  caste  and  routine 
which  has  long  animated  the  merchant  class  is  rap- 
idly disappearing,  and  not  a  few  nobles  are  now 
exchanging  country  life  and  the  service  of  the  State 
for  industrial  and  commercial  enterprises.  In  this 
way  is  being  formed  the  nucleus  of  that  wealthy, 
enlightened  bourgeoisie,  which  Catherine  endeav- 
oured to  create  by  legislation,  but  manj^  years 
must    elapse    before    this    class   acquires    sufiicient 

RUSSIA   I  — 15  225 


RUSSIA 

social  and  political  significance  to  deserve  the  title 
of  a  tiers-etat.  We  have  here  an  interesting  subject 
for  speculation,  but  I  have  already  wandered  too 
far  from  my  starting-point.  Let  us  return,  there- 
fore, at  once  to  Novgorod. 


226 


CHAPTER  XI 

LORD  NOVGOROD  THE  GREAT 

THAT  part  of  Novgorod  which  lies  on  the  east- 
ern bank  of  the  river  contains  nothing  that 
is  worthy  of  special  attention.  As  is  the  case 
in  most  Russian  towns,  the  streets  are  straight,  wide, 
and  ill-paved,  and  all  run  parallel  or  at  right  angles 
to  each  other.  At  the  end  of  the  bridge  is  a  spacious 
market-place,  flanked  on  one  side  by  the  Townhouse. 
Near  the  other  side  stand  the  houses  of  the  Governor 
and  of  the  chief  military  authority  of  the  district. 
The  only  other  buildings  of  note  are  the  numerous 
churches,  which  are  mostly  small,  and  offer  noth- 
ing that  is  likely  to  interest  the  student  of  architec- 
ture. Altogether  this  part  of  the  town  is  eminently 
unpicturesque  and  thoroughly  uninteresting.  The 
learned  archaeologist  may  detect  in  it  some  traces 
of  the  distant  past,  but  the  ordinary  traveller  will 
find  little  to  arrest  his  attention. 

If  now  we  cross  over  by  the  bridge  to  the  other 
side  of  the  river,  we  at  once  find  before  us  something 
which  very  few  Russian  towns  possess  —  a  kremlin, 
or  citadel.  This  is  a  large  and  slightly-elevated  en- 
closure, surrounded  by  high  brick  walls,  and  in  part 

227 


RUSSIA 

by  the  remains  of  a  moat.  Before  the  days  of  heavy 
artillery  these  walls  must  have  presented  a  formid- 
able barrier  to  any  besieging  force,  but  they  have 
long  ceased  to  have  any  military  significance,  and 
are  now  nothing  more  than  an  historical  monu- 
ment. Passing  through  the  gateway  which  faces  the 
bridge,  we  find  ourselves  in  a  large  open  space.  To 
the  right  stands  the  cathedral  —  a  small,  much- 
venerated  church,  which  can  make  no  pretensions 
to  architectural  beauty  —  and  an  irregular  group  of 
buildings  containing  the  consistory  and  the  resi- 
dence of  the  Archbishop.  To  the  left  is  a  long 
symmetrical  range  of  buildings  containing  the  Gov- 
ernment offices  and  the  law  courts.  Midway  be- 
tween this  and  the  cathedral,  in  the  centre  of  the 
great  open  space,  stands  a  colossal  monument,  com- 
posed of  a  massive  circular  stone  pedestal  and  an 
enormous  globe,  on  and  around  which  cluster  a 
number  of  emblematic  and  historical  figures.  This 
curious  monument,  which  has  at  least  the  merit  of 
being  original  in  design,  was  erected  in  1862,  in 
commemoration  of  Russia's  thousandth  birthday, 
and  is  supposed  to  represent  the  history  of  Russia 
in  general  and  of  Novgorod  in  particular  during 
the  last  thousand  years.  It  was  placed  here  be- 
cause Novgorod  is  the  oldest  of  Russian  towns, 
and  because  somewhere  in  the  surrounding  country 
occurred  the  incident  which  is  commonly  recognised 
as  the  foundation  of  the  Russian  Empire.  The 
incident  in  question  is  thus  described  in  the  oldest 
chronicle :  — 

228 


NOVGOROD    THE    GREAT 

"At  that  time,  as  the  southern  Slavonians  paid 
tribute  to  the  Kozars,  so  the  Novgorodian  Slavo- 
nians suffered  from  the  attacks  of  the  Variags.  For 
some  time  the  Variags  extracted  tribute  from  the 
Novgorodian  Slavonians  and  the  neighbouring  Finns; 
then  the  conquered  tribes,  by  uniting  their  forces, 
drove  out  the  foreigners.  But  among  the  Slavoni- 
ans arose  strong  internal  dissensions;  the  clans  rose 
against  each  other.  Then,  for  the  creation  of  order 
and  safety,  they  resolved  to  call  in  princes  from  a 
foreign  land.  In  the  year  862  Slavonic  legates 
went  away  beyond  the  sea  to  the  Variag  tribe  called 
Rus,  and  said,  'Our  land  is  great  and  fruitful,  but 
there  is  no  order  in  it;  come  and  reign  and  rule 
over  us.'  Three  brothers  accepted  this  invitation, 
and  appeared  with  their  armed  follow^ers.  The 
eldest  of  these,  Rurik,  settled  in  Novgorod;  the 
second,  Sineus,  at  Byelo-ozero;  and  the  third,  Tru- 
vor,  in  Isborsk.  From  them  our  land  is  called 
Rus.  After  two  years  the  brothers  of  Rurik  died. 
He  alone  began  to  rule  over  the  Novgorod  district, 
and  confided  to  his  men  the  administration  of  the 
principal  towns." 

This  simple  legend  has  given  rise  to  a  vast  amount 
of  learned  controversy,  and  historical  investigators 
have  fought  valiantly  with  each  other  about  the 
important  question,  \Mio  were  those  armed  men 
of  Rus?  For  a  long  time  the  commonly  received 
opinion  was  that  they  w^ere  Normans  from  Scandi- 
navia. The  Slavophils  accepted  the  legend  literally 
in  this  sense,  and  constructed  upon  it  an  ingenious 

229 


RUSSIA 

theory  of  Russian  history.  The  nations  of  the  West, 
they  said,  were  conquered  by  invaders,  who  seized 
the  country  and  created  the  feudal  system  for  their 
own  benefit;  hence  the  history  of  Western  Europe 
is  a  long  tale  of  bloody  struggles  between  conquerors 
and  conquered,  and  at  the  present  day  the  old  en- 
mity still  lives  in  the  political  rivalry  of  the  different 
social  classes.  The  Russo-Slavonians,  on  the  con- 
trary, were  not  conquered,  but  voluntarily  invited 
a  foreign  prince  to  come  and  rule  over  them;  hence 
the  whole  social  and  political  development  of  Rus- 
sia has  been  essentially  peaceful,  and  the  Russian 
people  know  nothing  of  social  castes  or  feudalism. 
Though  this  theory  afforded  some  nourishment  for 
patriotic  self-satisfaction,  it  displeased  extreme  pa- 
triots, who  did  not  like  the  idea  that  order  was  first 
established  in  their  country  by  men  of  Teutonic 
race.  These  preferred  to  adopt  the  theory  that 
Rurik  and  his  companions  were  Slavonians  from  the 
shores  of  the  Baltic.  At  the  present  time  the  general 
tendency  seems  to  be  to  regard  the  story  as  a  child- 
ish invention  of  the  monkish  chroniclers. 

Though  I  have  myself  devoted  to  the  study  of 
this  question  more  time  and  labour  than  perhaps 
the  subject  deserves,  I  have  no  intention  of  inviting 
the  reader  to  follow  me  through  the  tedious  con- 
troversy. Suffice  it  to  say  that,  after  careful  con- 
sideration, and  with  all  due  deference  to  recent 
historians,  I  am  inclined  to  adopt  the  old  theory, 
and  to  regard  the  Normans  of  Scandinavia  as  in  a 
certain  sense  the  founders  of  the  Russian  Empire. 

230 


NOVGOROD    THE    GREAT 

We  know  from  other  sources  that  during  the  ninth 
century  there  was  a  great  exodus  from  Scandinavia. 
Greedy  of  booty,  and  fired  with  the  spirit  of  adven- 
ture, the  Northmen,  in  their  Hght  open  boats,  swept 
along  the  coasts  of  Germany,  France,  Spain,  Greece, 
and  Asia  Minor,  pillaging  the  towns  and  villages 
near  the  sea,  and  entering  into  the  heart  of  the 
country  by  means  of  the  rivers.  At  first  they 
were  mere  marauders,  and  showed  everywhere  such 
ferocity  and  cruelty  that  they  came  to  be  regarded 
as  something  akin  to  plagues  and  famines,  and  the 
faithful  added  a  new  petition  to  one  of  the  prayers 
in  the  Litany,  "From  the  wrath  and  malice  of  the 
Normans,  O  Lord,  deliver  us!"  But  towards  the 
middle  of  the  century  the  movement  changed  its 
character.  The  raids  became  military  invasions, 
and  the  invaders  sought  to  conquer  the  lands  which 
they  had  formerly  plundered,  *'ut  acquirant  sibi 
spoliando  regna  quibus  possent  vivere  pace  per- 
petua."  The  chiefs  embraced  Christianity,  mar- 
ried the  daughters  or  sisters  of  the  reigning  princes, 
and  obtained  the  conquered  territories  as  feudal 
grants.  Thus  arose  Norman  principalities  in  the 
Low  Countries,  in  France,  in  Italy,  and  in  Sicily; 
and  the  Northmen,  rapidly  blending  with  the  na- 
tive population,  soon  showed  as  much  political 
talent  as  they  had  formerly  shown  reckless  and 
destructive  valour. 

It  would  have  been  strange  indeed  if  these  adven- 
turers, who  succeeded  in  reaching  Asia  Minor  and 
the   coasts  of   North   America,   should   have   over- 

231 


RUSSIA 

looked  Russia,  which  lay,  as  it  were,  at  their  very- 
doors.  The  Volkhof,  flowing  through  Novgorod, 
forms  part  of  a  great  water-way,  which  affords  almost 
uninterrupted  water-communication  between  the 
Baltic  and  the  Black  Sea;  and  we  know  that  some 
time  afterwards  the  Scandinavians  used  this  route 
in  their  journeys  to  Constantinople.  The  change 
which  the  Scandinavian  movement  underwent  else- 
where is  clearly  indicated  by  the  Russian  chronicles: 
first,  the  Variags  came  as  collectors  of  tribute,  and 
raised  so  much  popular  opposition  that  they  were 
expelled,  and  then  they  came  as  rulers,  and  settled 
in  the  country.  Whether  they  really  came  on  invi- 
tation may  be  doubted,  but  that  they  adopted  the 
language,  religion,  and  customs  of  their  adopted 
country  does  not  militate  against  the  assertion  that 
they  were  Normans.  On  the  contrary,  we  have 
here  rather  an  additional  confirmation,  for  elsewhere 
the  Normans  did  likewise.  In  the  North  of  France 
they  adopted  almost  at  once  the  French  language 
and  religion,  and  the  son  and  successor  of  the  famous 
Rollo  was  sometimes  reproached  with  being  more 
French  than  Norman. 

Though  it  is  difficult  to  decide  how  far  the  legend 
is  literally  true,  there  can  be  no  possible  doubt  that 
the  event  which  it  more  or  less  accurately  describes 
had  an  important  influence  on  Russian  history. 
From  that  time  dates  the  rapid  expansion  of  the 
Russo-Slavonians  —  a  movement  that  is  still  going 
on  at  the  present  day.  To  the  north,  the  east,  and 
the  south,  new  principalities  were  formed  and  gov- 

232 


NOVGOROD    THE    GREAT 

erned  by  men  who  all  claimed  to  be  descendants 
of  Rurik,  and  down  to  the  end  of  the  sixteenth 
century  no  one  outside  of  this  great  family  ever 
attempted  to  establish  independent  sovereignty  in 
Russia. 

For  six  centuries  after  the  so-called  invitation  of 
Rurik  the  city  on  the  Volkliof  had  a  strange  chequered 
history.  Rapidly  it  conquered  the  neighbouring  Fin- 
nish tribes,  and  grew  into  a  powerful  independent 
state,  with  a  territory  extending  to  the  Gulf  of  Finland 
and  northwards  to  the  White  Sea.  At  the  same  time 
its  commercial  importance  increased,  and  it  be- 
came an  outpost  of  the  Hanseatic  League.  In  this 
work  the  descendants  of  Rurik  played  an  impor- 
tant part,  but  they  were  always  kept  in  strict  sub- 
ordination to  the  popular  will.  Political  freedom 
kept  pace  with  commercial  prosperity.  What  means 
Rurik  employed  for  establishing  and  preserving  order 
we  know  not,  but  we  know  that  his  successors  in 
Novgorod  possessed  merely  such  authority  as  was 
freely  granted  them  by  the  people.  The  supreme 
power  resided,  not  in  the  prince,  but  in  the  assembly 
of  the  citizens  called  together  in  the  market-place 
by  the  sound  of  the  great  bell.  This  assembly 
made  laws  for  the  prince  as  well  as  for  the  people, 
entered  into  alliances  with  foreign  powers,  declared 
war  and  concluded  peace,  imposed  taxes,  raised 
troops,  and  not  only  elected  the  magistrates,  but 
also  judged  and  deposed  them  when  it  thought  fit. 
The  prince  was  little  more  than  the  hired  commander 
of  the  troops  and  the  president  of  the  judicial  admin- 

233 


RUSSIA 

istration.  When  entering  on  his  functions  he  had 
to  take  a  solemn  oath  that  he  would  faithfully  observe 
the  ancient  laws  and  usages,  and  if  he  failed  to  fulfil 
his  promise  he  was  sure  to  be  summarily  deposed 
and  expelled.  The  people  had  an  old  rhymed  proverb 
"Koli  khud  hnyaz,  tak  ^v  gryazT'  ("If  the  prince  is 
bad,  into  the  mud  with  him!")  and  they  habitually 
acted  according  to  it.  So  unpleasant,  indeed,  was 
the  task  of  ruling  those  sturdy,  stiff-necked  burghers 
that  some  princes  refused  to  undertake  it,  and  others, 
having  tried  it  for  a  time,  voluntarily  laid  down  their 
authority  and  departed.  But  these  frequent  deposi- 
tions and  abdications — as  many  as  thirty  took  place 
in  the  course  of  a  single  century  —  did  not  perma- 
nently disturb  the  existing  order  of  things.  The 
descendants  of  Rurik  were  numerous,  and  there 
were  always  plenty  of  candidates  for  the  vacant 
place.  The  municipal  republic  continued  to  grow  in 
strength  and  in  riches,  and  during  the  thirteenth 
and  fourteenth  century  it  proudly  styled  itself 
*'Lord  Novgorod  the  Great"  (Gospodin  Veliki 
Novgorod) . 

"Then  came  a  change,  as  all  things  human  change." 
To  the  East  arose  the  principality  of  Moscow  — 
not  an  old,  rich  municipal  republic,  but  a  young, 
vigorous  State,  ruled  by  a  line  of  crafty,  energetic, 
ambitious,  and  unscrupulous  princes,  who  were  free- 
ing the  country  from  the  Tartar  yoke  and  gradually 
annexing  by  fair  means  and  foul  the  neighbouring 
principalities  to  their  own  dominions.  At  the  same 
time,    and   in    a    similar    manner,    the    Lithuanian 

234 


NOVGOROD    THE    GREAT 

Princes  to  the  Westward  united  various  small 
principalities,  and  formed  a  powerful  independent 
State.  Thus  Novgorod  found  itself  between  two 
powerful  aggressive  neighbours.  Under  a  strong 
government  it  might  have  held  its  own  against 
these  rivals  and  successfully  maintained  its  inde- 
pendence, but  its  strength  was  already  undermined 
by  internal  dissensions.  Political  liberty  had  led 
to  anarchy.  Again  and  again  on  that  great  open 
space  where  the  national  monument  now  stands, 
and  in  the  market-place  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river,  scenes  of  disorder  and  bloodshed  took  place, 
and  more  than  once  on  the  bridge  battles  were 
fought  by  contending  factions.  Sometimes  it  was 
a  contest  between  rival  families,  and  sometimes  a 
struggle  between  the  municipal  aristocracy,  who 
sought  to  monopolise  the  political  power,  and  the 
common  people,  who  wished  to  have  a  large  share  in 
the  administration.  A  State  thus  divided  against 
itself  could  not  long  resist  the  aggressive  tendencies 
of  powerful  neighbours.  Artful  diplomacy  could  but 
postpone  the  evil  day,  and  it  required  no  great 
political  foresight  to  predict  that  sooner  or  later 
Novgorod  must  become  Lithuanian  or  Muscovite. 
The  great  families  inclined  to  Lithuania,  but  the 
popular  party  and  the  clergy  looked  to  Moscow 
for  assistance,  and  the  Grand  Princes  of  Muscovy 
ultimately  gained  the  prize. 

The  barbarous  way  in  which  the  Grand  Princes 
effected  the  annexation  shows  how  thoroughly  they 
had   imbibed   the   spirit   of   Tartar   statesmanship. 

235 


RUSSIA 

Thousands  of  families  were  transported  to  Moscow, 
and  Muscovite  families  put  in  their  place;  and  when, 
in  spite  of  this,  the  old  spirit  revived,  Ivan  the  Terrible 
determined  to  apply  the  method  of  physical  extermi- 
nation, which  he  had  found  so  effectual  in  breaking 
the  power  of  his  own  nobles.  Advancing  with  a 
large  army,  which  met  with  no  resistance,  he  devas- 
tated the  country  with  fire  and  sword,  and  during 
a  residence  of  five  weeks  in  the  town,  he  put  the 
inhabitants  to  death  with  a  ruthless  ferocity  which 
has  perhaps  never  been  surpassed  even  by  Oriental 
despots.  If  these  old  walls  could  speak  they  would 
have  many  a  horrible  tale  to  tell.  Enough  has  been 
preserved  in  the  chronicles  to  give  us  some  idea  of 
this  awful  time.  Monks  and  priests  were  subjected 
to  the  Tartar  punishment  called  pravezh,  which  con- 
sisted in  tying  the  victim  to  a  stake,  and  flogging 
him  daily  until  a  certain  sum  of  money  was  paid 
for  his  release.  The  merchants  and  officials  were 
tortured  with  fire,  and  then  thrown  from  the 
bridge  with  their  wives  and  children  into  the  river. 
Lest  any  of  them  should  escape  by  swimming, 
boatfulsj  of  soldiers  despatched  those  who  were  not 
killed  by  the  fall.  At  the  present  day  there  is  a 
curious  bubbling  immediately  below  the  bridge, 
which  prevents  the  water  from  freezing  in  winter, 
and  according  to  popular  belief  this  is  caused  by 
the  spirits  of  those  who  perished  at  that  time.  Of 
those  who  were  murdered  in  the  villages  there  is 
no  record,  but  in  the  town  alone  no  less  than  60,000 
human  beings  are  said  to  have  been  butchered  — 

236 


NOVGOROD    THE    GREAT 

an  awful  hecatomb  on  the  altar  of  national  unity 
and  autocratic  power!  ^ 

This  tragic  scene,  which  occurred  in  1570,  closes 
the  history  of  Novgorod  as  an  independent  State. 
Its  real  independence  had  long  since  ceased  to 
exist  and  now  the  last  spark  of  the  old  spirit  was 
extinguished.  The  Tsars  could  not  suffer  even  a 
shadow  of  political  independence  to  exist  within 
their  dominions.  The  proud  municipal  republic  sunk 
to  the  level  of  the  ordinary  provincial  towns,  and 
since  that  time  it  has  never  shown  any  symptoms 
of  recovering  its  ancient  commercial  prosperity. 

In  the  old  days,  when  many  Hanseatic  merchants 
annually  visited  the  city,  and  when  the  market- 
place, the  bridge,  and  the  kremlin  were  often  the 
scene  of  violent  political  struggles,  Novgorod  must 
have  been  an  interesting  place  to  live  in;  but  now  its 
glory  has  departed,  and  in  respect  of  social  resources 
it  is  not  even  a  first-rate  provincial  town.  Kief, 
Kazan,  and  other  towns  which  are  situated  at  a 
great  distance  from  the  capital  in  districts  fertile 
enough  to  induce  the  nobles  to  farm  their  own 
land  are  in  their  way  little  semi-independent  centres 
of  civilisation.  They  contain  a  theatre,  a  library, 
two  or  three  clubs,  and  many  large  houses  belonging 
to  rich  landed  proprietors,  who  spend  the  summer 
on  their  estates  and  come  into  town  for  the  winter 
months.     These  proprietors,  together  with  the  resi- 

^  Those  who  care  to  know  more  about  Ivan  the  Terrible  and  his  prede- 
cessors may  consult  Mr.  Ralston's  admirable  little  work,  "Early  Russian 
History,"  London,  1874. 

237 


RUSSIA 

dent  officials,  form  a  numerous  society,  and  during 
the  winter,  dinner-parties,  balls,  and  other  social 
gatherings  are  by  no  means  unfrequent.  In  Nov- 
gorod the  society  is  much  more  limited.  It  does 
not,  like  Kazan,  Kief,  and  Kharkof,  possess  a  univer- 
sity, and  it  contains  no  houses  belonging  to  wealthy 
nobles.  The  few  proprietors  of  the  province  who 
live  on  their  estates,  and  are  rich  enough  to  spend 
part  of  the  year  in  town,  prefer  St.  Petersburg  for 
their  winter  residence.  The  society,  therefore,  is  com- 
posed exclusively  of  officials  and  of  the  officers  who 
happen  to  be  quartered  in  the  town  of  the  imme- 
diate vicinity.  Of  all  the  people  whose  acquaint- 
ance I  made  I  can  recall  only  two  men  who  did  not 
occupy  some  official  position,  civil  or  military.  One 
of  these  was  a  retired  doctor,  who  was  attempting 
to  farm  on  scientific  principles,  and  who,  I  believe, 
soon  afterwards  gave  up  the  attempt  and  emigrated 
elsewhere.  The  other  was  a  Polish  bishop,  who  had 
been  compromised  in  the  insurrection  of  1863,  and 
was  condemned  to  live  here  under  police  supervision. 
This  latter  could  scarcely  be  said  to  belong  to  the 
society  of  the  place;  though  he  sometimes  appeared 
at  the  unceremonious  weekly  receptions  given  by  the 
Governor,  and  was  invariably  treated  by  all  present 
with  marked  respect,  he  could  not  but  feel  that  he 
was  in  a  false  position,  and  he  was  rarely  or  never 
seen  in  other  houses. 

The  society  of  a  town  like  Novgorod  is  sure  to 
contain  a  good  many  people  of  average  education 
and  agreeable  manners,  but  it  is  sure  to  be  neither 

238 


NOVGOROD    THE    GREAT 

brilliant  nor  interesting.  Though  it  is  constantly 
undergoing  a  gradual  renovation  by  the  received 
system  of  frequently  transferring  officials  from  one 
town  to  another,  it  preserves  faithfully,  in  spite  of 
the  new  blood  which  it  thus  receives,  its  essentially 
languid  character.  AVhen  a  new  official  arrives  he 
exchanges  visits  with  all  the  notables,  and  for  a 
few  days  he  produces  quite  a  sensation  in  the  little 
community.  If  he  appears  at  social  gatherings  he 
is  much  talked  to,  and  if  he  does  not  appear  he  is 
much  talked  about.  His  former  history  is  repeatedly 
narrated,  and  his  various  merits  and  defects  assidu- 
ously discussed.  If  he  is  married,  and  has  brought 
his  wife  with  him^  the  field  of  comment  and  dis- 
cussion is  very  much  enlarged.  The  first  time  that 
madame  appears  in  society  she  is  "the  cynosure  of 
neighbouring  eyes."  Her  features,  her  complexion, 
her  hair,  her  dress,  and  her  jewellery  are  carefully 
noted  and  criticised.  Perhaps  she  has  brought  with 
her,  from  the  capital  or  from  abroad,  some  dresses 
of  the  newest  fashion.  As  soon  as  this  is  discovered 
she  at  once  becomes  an  object  of  special  curiosity 
to  all  the  ladies,  and  of  envious  jealousy  to  those 
who  regard  as  a  personal  grievance  the  presence  of 
a  toilette  finer  or  more  fashionable  than  their  own. 
Her  demeanour,  too,  is  very  carefully  observed. 
If  she  is  friendly  and  affable  in  manner,  she  is 
patronised;  if  she  is  distant  and  reserved,  she  is 
condemned  as  proud  and  pretentious.  In  either 
case  she  is  pretty  sure  to  form  a  close  intimacy  with 
some  one  of  the  older  female  residents,  and  for  a 

239 


RUSSIA 

few  weeks  the  two  ladies  are  inseparable,  till  some 
incautious  word  or  act  disturbs  the  new-born  friend- 
ship, and  the  devoted  friends  become  bitter  ene- 
mies. Voluntarily  or  involuntarily  the  husbands  get 
mixed  up  in  the  quarrel.  Highly  undesirable  qual- 
ities are  discovered  in  the  characters  of  all  parties 
concerned,  and  are  made  the  subject  of  unfriendly 
comment.  Then  the  feud  subsides,  and  some  new 
feud  of  a  similar  kind  comes  to  occupy  the  public 
attention.  Mrs.  A.  wonders  how  her  friends  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  B.  can  afford  to  lose  considerable  sums  every 
evening  at  cards,  and  suspects  that  they  are  getting 
into  debt  or  starving  themselves  and  their  children; 
in  their  humble  opinion  they  would  do  well  to  give 
fewer  supper-parties,  and  to  refrain  from  poisoning 
their  guests.  The  bosom  friend  to  whom  this  is 
related  retails  it  directly  or  indirectly  to  Mrs.  B.,  and 
Mrs.  B.  naturally  retaliates.  Here  is  a  new  quarrel, 
which  for  some  time  affords  material  for  conversa- 
tion. When  there  is  no  quarrel  there  is  sure  to  be 
a  bit  of  scandal  afloat.  Though  Russian  provincial 
society  is  not  at  all  prude,  and  leans  rather  to  the 
side  of  extreme  leniency,  it  cannot  entirely  over- 
look les  convenances.  Madame  C.  has  always  a  large 
number  of  male  admirers,  and  to  this  there  can  be 
no  reasonable  objection  so  long  as  her  husband  does 
not  complain,  but  really  she  parades  her  preference 
for  Mr.  X.  at  balls  and  parties  a  little  too  con- 
spicuously. Then  there  is  Madame  D.,  with  the 
big  dreamy  eyes.  How  can  she  remain  in  the  place 
after  her  husband  was  killed  in  a  duel  by  a  brother 

240 


NOVGOROD    THE    GREAT 

officer?  Ostensibly  the  cause  of  the  quarrel  was  a 
trifling  incident  at  the  card-table,  but  every  one 
knows  that  in  reality  she  was  the  cause  of  the  deadly 
encounter.  And  so  on,  and  so  on.  In  the  absence 
of  graver  interests  society  naturally  bestows  inordi- 
nate attention  on  the  private  affairs  of  its  members; 
and  quarrelling,  backbiting,  and  scandal-mongery 
help  indolent  people  to  kill  the  time  that  hangs 
heavily  on  their  hands. 

Potent  as  these  instruments  are,  they  are  not 
sufficient  to  kill  all  the  leisure  hours.  In  the  fore- 
noons the  gentlemen  are  occupied  with  their  official 
duties,  whilst  the  ladies  go  out  shopping  or  pay 
visits,  and  devote  any  time  that  remains  to  their 
household  duties  and  their  children;  but  the  day's 
work  is  over  about  four  o'clock,  and  the  long  even- 
ing remains  to  be  filled  up.  The  after-dinner  siesta 
may  dispose  of  an  hour  or  an  hour  and  a  half,  but 
about  seven  o'clock  some  definite  occupation  has  to 
be  found.  As  it  is  impossible  to  devote  the  whole 
evening  to  discussing  the  ordinary  news  of  the  day, 
recourse  is  almost  invariably  had  to  card-playing, 
which  is  indulged  in  to  an  extent  that  we  have  no 
conception  of  in  Western  Europe.  Hour  after  hour 
the  Russians  of  both  sexes  will  sit  in  a  hot  room, 
filled  with  a  constantly-renewed  cloud  of  tobacco- 
smoke  —  in  the  production  of  which  some  of  the 
ladies  perhaps  take  part  —  and  silently  play  ''Pre- 
ference" or  "  Yarolash."  Those  who  for  some  reason 
are  obliged  to  be  alone  can  amuse  themselves  with 
"Patience,"  an  ingenious  game  in  which  no  partner 

RUSSIA    I — 16  241 


RUSSIA 

is  required.  In  the  two  former  games  the  stakes 
are  commonly  very  small,  but  the  sittings  are  often 
continued  so  long  that  a  player  may  win  or  lose  two 
or  three  pounds  sterling.  It  is  no  unusual  thing  for 
gentlemen  to  play  for  eight  or  nine  hours  at  a  time. 
At  the  weekly  club  dinners,  before  coffee  had  been 
served,  nearly  all  present  used  to  rush  off  impa- 
tiently to  the  card-room,  and  sit  there  placidly  from 
five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  till  one  or  two  o'clock 
in  the  morning!  When  I  asked  my  friends  why 
they  devoted  so  much  time  to  this  unprofitable 
occupation,  they  always  gave  me  pretty  much  the 
same  answer.  "What  are  we  to  do.^^  We  have 
been  reading  or  writing  official  papers  all  day,  and 
in  the  evening  we  like  to  have  a  little  relaxation. 
When  we  come  together  we  have  very  little  to  talk 
about,  for  we  have  all  read  the  daily  papers  and 
nothing  more.  The  best  thing  we  can  do  is  to  sit 
down  at  the  card-table,  where  we  can  spend  our 
time  pleasantly,  without  the  necessity  of  talking." 
I  In  addition  to  the  daily  papers,  some  people 
read  the  monthly  periodicals  —  big,  thick  volumes, 
containing  several  serious  articles  on  historical  and 
social  subjects,  sections  of  one  or  two  novels,  satiri- 
cal sketches,  and  a  long  review  of  home  and  foreign 
politics  on  the  model  of  those  which  appear  regu- 
larly in  the  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes.  Several  of 
these  periodicals  are  very  ably  conducted,  and  offer 
to  their  readers  a  large  amount  of  valuable  informa- 
tion; but  I  have  noticed  that  the  leaves  of  the  more 
serious  part  often  remain  uncut.     The  translation 

242 


NOVGOROD    THE    GREAT 

of  a  novel  by  Emile  Zola  or  Wilkie  Collins  finds 
many  more  readers  than  an  article  by  an  historian 
or  a  political  economist.  As  to  books,  they  seem  to 
be  very  little  read,  for  during  all  the  time  I  lived  in 
Novgorod  I  never  discovered  a  bookseller's  shop, 
and  when  I  required  books  I  had  to  get  them  sent 
from  St.  Petersburg.  The  local  administration,  it 
is  true,  conceived  the  project  of  forming  a  museum 
and  circulating  library,  but  I  am  not  sure  that  the 
project  was  ever  realised.  Of  all  the  magnificent 
projects  that  are  formed  in  Russia,  only  a  very 
small  percentage  come  into  existence,  and  these 
are  too  often  very  short-lived.  The  Russians  have 
learned  theoretically  what  are  the  wants  of  the 
most  advanced  civilisation,  and  are  ever  ready  to 
rush  into  the  grand  schemes  which  their  theoretical 
knowledge  suggests;  but  very  few  of  them  really  and 
permanently  feel  these  wants,  and  consequently  the 
institutions  artificially  formed  to  satisfy  them  very 
soon  languish  and  die.  In  the  provincial  towns  the 
shops  for  the  sale  of  gastronomic  delicacies  spring 
up  and  flourish,  whilst  shops  for  the  sale  of  intel- 
lectual food  are  rarely  to  be  met  with.  The  conclu- 
sion to  be  drawn  from  these  facts  is  obvious. 

About  the  beginning  of  December  the  ordinary 
monotony  of  Novgorod  life  is  a  little  relieved  by 
the  annual  Provincial  Assembly,  which  sits  daily 
for  two  or  three  weeks  and  discusses  the  economic 
wants  of  the  province.  During  this  time  a  good 
many  landed  proprietors,  who  habitually  live  on 
their   estates   or  in   St.   Petersburg,   collect   in   the 

243 


RUSSIA 

town  and  enliven  a  little  the  ordinary  society.  But 
as  Christmas  approaches  the  deputies  disperse,  and 
again  the  town  becomes  enshrouded  ia  that  "eternal 
stillness"  (vetchnaya  tishina)  which  a  native  poet 
has  declared  to  be  the  essential  characteristic  of 
Russian  provincial  life. 


244 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  IMPERIAL  ADMINISTRATION  AND 
THE  OFFICIALS 

ONE  of  my  reasons  for  taking  up  my  winter 
quarters  in  Novgorod  was  that  I  might 
study  the  provincial  administration;  and 
as  soon  as  a  convenient  opportunity  presented  itself 
I  communicated  my  intention  to  the  Governor  and 
Vice-Governor.  Both  of  these  gentlemen,  as  well  as 
some  of  the  other  officials,  at  once  promised  to  afford 
me  all  the  assistance  in  their  power,  and  I  accord- 
ingly congratulated  myself  on  the  choice  I  had  made, 
but  my  first  attempt  to  take  advantage  of  the  prom- 
ises thus  given  diminished  considerably  my  sanguine 
expectations.  When  I  called  one  evening  on  the 
Vice-Governor,  and  reminded  him  of  his  friendly 
offers,  I  found  that  he  had  in  the  meantime,  like 
the  merchant  of  whom  I  spoke  in  a  former  chapter, 
changed  his  mind.  Instead  of  answering  my  first 
simple  inquiry,  he  stared  at  me  fixedly,  as  if  for  the 
purpose  of  detecting  some  covert,  malicious  design, 
and  then,  putting  on  an  air  of  official  dignity,  in- 
formed me  that,  as  I  had  not  been  authorised  by 
the  Minister  to  make  these  investigations,  he  could 
not  assist  me,  and  would  certainly  not  allow  me  to 
examine  the  archives. 

245 


RUSSIA 

This  was  not  encouraging,  but  it  did  not  prevent 
me  from  applying  to  the  Governor  and  the  other 
officials,  and  I  found  to  my  delight  that  they  had 
no  scruples  about  rendering  me  assistance.  The 
Governor  willingly  explained  to  me  the  mechanism 
of  provincial  administration,  and  indicated  to  me 
the  works  in  which  I  could  find  the  theoretical  and 
historical  information  which  I  required;  and  the 
minor  officials  initiated  me  into  the  mysteries  of 
their  respective  departments.  At  last  the  Vice- 
Governor  himself  followed  the  example  of  his  col- 
leagues, but  I  politely  declined  his  services.  The 
elementary  information  thus  acquired  I  had  after- 
wards abundant  opportunities  of  completing  by 
observation  and  study,  and  I  now  propose  to  com- 
municate to  the  reader  a  few  of  the  more  general 
results  which  I  have  obtained. 

,  The  gigantic  administrative  machine  which  holds 
together  all  the  various  parts  of  the  vast  Empire, 
and  secures  for  all  of  them  a  certain  amount  of 
public  order  and  tranquillity,  has  been  gradually 
created  by  successive  generations,  but  we  may  say 
roughly  that  it  was  first  designed  and  constructed 
by  Peter  the  Great.  Before  his  time  the  country 
was  governed  in  a  rude,  primitive  fashion.  The 
Grand  Princes  of  Moscow,  in  subduing  their  rivals 
and  annexing  the  surrounding  principalities,  merely 
cleared  the  ground  for  a  great  homogeneous  State, 
and  made  no  attempt  to  build  a  symmetrical  po- 
litical edifice.  Wily,  practical  politicians,  rather 
than  statesmen  of  the  doctrinaire  type,  they  never 

246 


ADMINISTRATION 

dreamed  of  introducing  uniformity  and  symmetry 
into  the  administration.  They  spared  and  devel- 
oped the  ancient  institutions,  so  far  as  these  were 
useful  and  consistent  with  the  exercise  of  autocratic 
power,  and  made  only  such  alterations  as  practical 
necessity  demanded.  And  these  necessary  altera- 
tions were  more  frequently  local  than  general.  Spe- 
cial decisions,  instruction  to  particular  officials,  and 
charters  for  particular  communes  or  proprietors 
were  much  more  common  than  general  legislative 
measures.  In  short,  the  old  Muscovite  Tsars  prac- 
tised a  tentative,  hand-to-mouth  policy,  ruthlessly 
destroying  whatever  caused  temporary  inconven- 
ience, and  giving  little  heed  to  what  did  not  force 
itself  upon  their  attention.  Hence,  under  their  rule 
the  administration  presented  not  only  territorial 
peculiarities,  but  also  an  ill-assorted  combination 
of  different  systems  in  the  same  district  —  a  con- 
glomeration of  institutions  belonging  to  different 
epochs,  like  a  fleet  composed  of  triremes,  three- 
deckers,  and  ironclads. 

This  irregular  system,  or  rather  want  of  system, 
seemed  highly  unsatisfactory  to  the  logical  mind  of 
Peter  the  Great,  who  was  all  his  life  a  thorough  doc- 
trinaire. He  conceived  the  grand  design  of  sweep- 
ing it  away,  and  putting  in  its  place  a  symmetrical 
bureaucratic  machine,  constructed  according  to  the 
newest  principles  of  political  science.  It  is  scarcely 
necessary  to  say  that  this  magnificent  project,  so 
foreign  to  the  traditional  ideas  and  customs  of  the 
people,   was  not  easily   realised.     Imagine  a  man, 

247 


RUSSIA 

without  teclmical  knowledge,  without  skilled  work- 
men, without  good  tools,  and  with  no  better  material 
than  soft,  crumbling  sandstone,  endeavouring  to 
build  a  palace  on  a  marsh!  The  undertaking  would 
seem  to  reasonable  minds  utterly  absurd,  and  yet  it 
must  be  admitted  that  Peter's  project  was  scarcely 
more  feasible.  He  had  neither  technical  knowledge, 
nor  the  requisite  materials,  nor  a  firm  foundation 
to  build  on.  With  his  usual  Titanic  energy  he 
demolished  the  old  structure,  but  his  attempts  to 
construct  were  little  more  than  a  series  of  failures. 
In  his  numerous  ukases  he  has  left  us  a  graphic  de- 
scription of  his  efforts,  and  it  is  at  once  instructive 
and  saddening  to  watch  the  great  worker  toiling 
indefatigably  at  his  self-imposed  task.  His  instru- 
ments are  constantly  breaking  in  his  hands.  The 
foundations  of  the  building  are  continually  giving 
way,  and  the  lower  tiers  crumbling  under  the  super- 
incumbent weight.  A  whole  section  is  found  to 
be  unsuitable,  and  is  ruthlessly  pulled  down,  or 
falls  of  its  own  accord.  And  yet  the  builder  toils 
on,  with  a  perseverance  and  energy  of  purpose  that 
compel  admiration,  frankly  confessing  his  mistakes 
and  failures,  and  patiently  seeking  the  means  of 
remedying  them,  never  allowing  a  word  of  despond- 
ency to  escape  him,  and  never  despairing  of  ulti- 
mate success.  And  at  length  death  comes,  and  the 
mighty  builder  is  snatched  away  suddenly  in  the 
midst  of  his  unfinished  labours,  bequeathing  to  his 
successors  the  task  of  carrying  on  the  great  work. 
None  of  these  successors  possessed  Peter's  genius 

248 


ADMINISTRATION 

and  energy,  but  they  were  all  compelled  by  the 
force  of  circumstances  to  adopt  his  plans.  A  return 
to  the  old  rough  and  ready  rule  of  the  Voyevods 
was  impossible.  As  the  autocratic  power  became 
more  and  more  imbued  with  Western  ideas,  it 
felt  more  and  more  the  need  of  a  thoroughly  good 
instrument  for  the  realisation  of  its  policy,  and 
accordingly  strove  to  systematise  and  centralise  the 
administration. 

For  many  generations  schools  and  colleges  in  Rus- 
sia were  founded  and  maintained  simply  for  the  pur- 
pose of  preparing  men  for  the  public  service.  The 
administration  was  thus  brought  much  nearer  to  the 
West-European  ideal,  but  some  people  have  grave 
doubts  as  to  whether  it  became  thereby  better 
adapted  to  the  practical  wants  of  the  people  for 
whom  it  was  created.  On  this  point,  a  well-known 
Slavophil  once  made  to  me  some  remarks  which  are 
worthy  of  being  recorded.  "You  have  observed,'* 
he  said,  "that  till  very  recently  there  was  in  Russia 
an  enormous  amount  of  official  peculation,  extortion, 
and  misgovernment  of  every  kind,  that  the  courts 
of  law  were  dens  of  iniquity,  that  the  people  often 
committed  perjury,  and  much  more  of  the  same 
sort,  and  it  must  be  admitted  that  all  this  has  not 
yet  entirely  disappeared.  But  what  does  it  prove .'^ 
That  the  Russian  people  are  morally  inferior  to  the 
German?  Not  at  all.  It  simply  proves  that  the 
German  system  of  administration,  which  was  forced 
upon  them  without  their  consent,  was  utterly  un- 
suited  to  their  nature.     If  a  young  growing  boy  be 

249 


RUSSIA 

compelled  to  wear  very  tight  boots,  he  will  probably- 
burst  them,  and  the  ugly  rents  will  doubtless  pro- 
duce an  unfavourable  impression  on  the  passers-by; 
but  surely  it  is  better  that  the  boots  should  burst 
than  that  the  feet  should  be  deformed.  Now  the 
Russian  people  was  compelled  to  put  on  not  only 
tight  boots,  but  also  a  tight  jacket,  and,  being  young 
and  vigorous,  it  burst  them.  Narrow-minded,  pe- 
dantic Germans  can  neither  understand  nor  provide 
for  the  wants  of  the  broad  Slavonic  nature." 

In  its  present  form  the  Russian  administration 
seems  at  first  sight  a  very  imposing  edifice.  At  the 
top  of  the  pyramid  stands  the  Emperor,  "the  auto- 
cratic monarch,"  as  Peter  the  Great  described  him, 
*'who  has  to  give  an  account  of  his  acts  to  no  one 
on  earth,  but  has  a  power  and  authority  to  rule 
his  states  and  lands  as  a  Christian  sovereign  accord- 
ing to  his  own  will  and  judgment."  Immediately 
below  the  Emperor  we  see  the  Council  of  State,  the 
Committee  of  Ministers,  and  the  Senate,  which 
represent  respectively  the  legislative,  the  admin- 
istrative, and  the  judicial  power.  An  Englishman 
glancing  over  the  first  volume  of  the  Code  might 
imagine  that  the  Council  of  State  is  a  kind  of  par- 
liament and  the  Committee  of  Ministers  a  ministry 
in  our  sense  of  the  term,  but  in  reality  both  insti- 
tutions are  simply  incarnations  of  the  autocratic 
power.  Though  the  Council  is  entrusted  by  law 
with  many  important  functions  —  such  as  examin- 
ing and  criticising  the  annual  budget,  declaring  war, 
concluding  peace,  and  performing  other  important 

250 


ADMINISTRATION 

duties  —  it  has  merely  a  consultative  character, 
and  the  Emperor  is  not  in  any  way  bound  by  its 
decisions.  The  Committee  is  not  at  all  a  ministry 
as  we  understand  the  word.  The  ministers  are  all 
directly  and  individually  responsible  to  the  Em- 
peror, and  therefore  the  Committee  has  no  common 
responsibility  or  other  cohesive  force.  As  to  the 
Senate,  it  has  descended  from  its  high  estate.  It 
was  originally  entrusted  with  the  supreme  power 
during  the  absence  or  minority  of  the  monarch,  and 
was  intended  to  exercise  a  controlling  influence  in 
all  sections  of  the  administration,  but  now  its  activ- 
ity is  restricted  to  judicial  matters  and  it  is  little 
more  than  a  supreme  court  of  appeal. 

Immediately  below  these  three  institutions  stand 
the  Ministries,^  ten  in  number.  They  are  the  cen- 
tral points,  in  which  converge  the  various  kinds  of 
territorial  administration,  and  from  which  radiates 
the  Imperial  will  all  over  the  Empire. 

For  the  purposes  of  territorial  administration 
Russia  Proper  —  that  is  to  say,  European  Russia  ex- 
clusive of  Poland,  the  Baltic  Provinces,  Finland, 
and  the  Caucasus,  each  of  which  has  a  peculiar 
administration  of  its  own  —  is  divided  into  forty-six 
provinces,  or  "Governments"  {guhernii)^  and  each 
Government  is  subdivided  into  Districts  (uyezdi). 
The  average  area  of  a  province  is  about  the  size  of 
Portugal,  but  some  are  as  small  as  Belgium,  whilst  one 

'  The  ten  sections  of  the  administration  are  (1)  the  Interior,  (2)  Public 
Works,  (3)  State  Demesnes,  (4)  Finance,  (5)  Justice,  (C)  Public  Instruction, 
(7)  War,  (8)  Navy,  (9)  Foreign  Affairs,  (10)  the  Imperial  Court. 

251 


RUSSIA 

at  least  is  twenty-five  times  as  big.  The  population, 
however,  does  not  correspond  to  the  amount  of  terri- 
tory. In  the  largest  province,  that  of  Archangel, 
there  are  less  than  300,000  inhabitants,  whilst  in  some 
of  the  smaller  ones  there  are  over  two  millions. 

Over  each  province  is  placed  a  Governor,  who  is 
assisted  in  his  duties  by  a  Vice-Governor  and  a 
small  council.  According  to  the  legislation  of  Cath- 
erine II.,  which  still  appears  in  the  Code  and  has 
only  been  partially  repealed,  the  Governor  is  termed 
*'the  steward  of  the  province,"  and  is  entrusted 
with  so  many  and  such  delicate  duties  that  in  order 
to  obtain  men  qualified  for  the  post  it  would  be 
necessary  to  realise  the  great  Empress's  design  of 
creating,  by  education,  "a  new  race  of  people." 
Down  to  very  recent  times  the  Governors  un- 
derstood the  term  "stewards"  in  a  very  literal 
sense,  and  ruled  in  a  most  arbitrary,  high-handed 
style,  often  exercising  an  important  influence  on 
the  civil  and  criminal  tribunals.  These  extensive 
and  vaguely-defined  powers  have  now  been  very 
much  curtailed,  partly  by  positive  legislation,  and 
partly  by  increased  publicity  and  improved  means 
of  communication.  All  judicial  matters  have  been 
placed  completely  beyond  the  Governor's  control, 
and  many  of  his  former  functions  are  now  ful- 
filled by  the  Zemstvo  —  the  new  organ  of  local  self- 
government,  of  which  I  shall  have  more  to  say 
presently.  Besides  this,  all  ordinary  current  affairs 
are  regulated  by  an  already  big  and  ever-growing 
body  of  instructions,  in  the  form  of  Imperial  orders 

252 


Q 
< 


ADMINISTRATION 

and  ministerial  circulars,  and  as  soon  as  anything 
not  provided  for  by  the  instructions  happens  to 
occur,  the  minister  is  consulted  through  the  post- 
office  or  by  telegraph.  Even  within  the  sphere  of 
their  lawful  authority  the  Governors  have  now  a 
certain  respect  for  public  opinion,  and  occasionally 
a  very  wholesome  dread  of  casual  newspaper  corre- 
spondents. Thus  the  men  who  were  formerly  de- 
scribed by  the  satirists  as  "little  satraps"  have 
sunk  to  the  level  of  very  subordinate  officials.  I  can 
confidently  say  that  many  (I  believe  the  majority) 
of  them  are  honest,  upright  men,  who  are  per- 
haps not  endowed  with  any  unusual  administrative 
capacities,  but  who  perform  their  duties  faithfully 
according  to  their  lights.  Certainly,  M.  Lerche, 
who  was  Governor  of  Novgorod  during  my  sojourn 
there,  was  a  most  honourable,  conscientious,  and 
intelligent  man,  who  had  gained  golden  opinions 
from  all  classes  of  the  people.  If  any  representa- 
tives of  the  old  "satraps"  still  exist,  they  must  be 
sought  for  in  the  outlying  Asiatic  provinces. 

Independent  of  the  Governor,  who  is  the  local 
representative  of  the  Ministry  of  the  Interior,  are 
a  number  of  resident  officials,  who  represent  the 
other  ministries,  and  each  of  them  has  a.  bureau, 
with  the  requisite  number  of  assistants,  secretaries, 
and  scribes. 

To  keep  this  vast  and  complex  bureaucratic 
machine  in  motion  it  is  necessary  to  have  a  large 
and  well-drilled  army  of  officials.  These  are  drawn 
chiefly   from   the   ranks   of   the   noblesse   and    the 

253 


RUSSIA 

clergy  and  form  a  peculiar  social  class  called  Tchi- 
novniks,  or  men  with  "Tchins."  As  the  Tchin 
plays  an  important  part  in  Russia,  not  only  in 
the  official  world,  but  also  to  some  extent  in  social 
life,  it  may  be  well  to  explain  its  significance. 

All  offices,  civil  and  military,  are,  according  to  a 
scheme  invented  by  Peter  the  Great,  arranged  in 
fourteen  classes  or  ranks,  and  to  each  class  or  rank 
a  particular  name  is  attached.  As  promotion  is 
supposed  to  be  given  according  to  personal  merit, 
a  man  who  enters  the  public  service  for  the  first 
time  must,  whatever  be  his  social  position,  begin  in 
the  lower  ranks  and  work  his  way  upwards.  Edu- 
cational certificates  may  exempt  him  from  the 
necessity  of  passing  through  the  lowest  classes,  and 
the  Imperial  will  may  disregard  the  restrictions  laid 
down  by  law,  but  as  a  general  rule  a  man  must 
begin  at  or  near  the  bottom  of  the  official  ladder, 
and  he  must  remain  on  each  step  a  certain  specified 
time.  The  step  on  which  he  is  for  the  moment 
standing,  or,  in  other  words,  the  official  rank  or 
Tchin  which  he  possesses,  determines  what  offices 
he  is  competent  to  hold.  Thus  rank  or  Tchin  is  a 
necessary  condition  for  receiving  an  appointment, 
but  it  does  not  designate  any  actual  office,  and  the 
names  of  the  different  ranks  are  extremely  apt  to 
mislead  a  foreigner. 

We  must  always  bear  this  in  mind  when  we 
meet  with  those  imposing  titles  which  Russian  tour- 
ists sometimes  put  on  their  visiting-cards,  such  as 
"Consciller  de  Cour,"  "Conseiller  d'Etat,"  "Con- 

254 


ADMINISTRATION 

seiller  prive  de  S.M.  I'Empereur  de  toutes  les 
Hussies."  It  would  be  uncharitable  to  suppose 
that  these  titles  are  used  with  the  intention  of  mis- 
leading, but  that  they  do  sometimes  mislead  there 
cannot  be  the  least  doubt.  I  shall  never  forget  the 
look  of  intense  disgust  which  I  once  saw  on  the  face 
of  an  American  who  had  invited  to  dinner  a  *'Con- 
seiller  de  Cour,"  on  the  assumption  that  he  would 
have  a  court  dignitary  as  his  guest,  and  who  casu- 
ally discovered  that  the  personage  in  question  was 
simply  an  insignificant  official  in  one  of  the  public 
offices.  No  doubt  other  people  have  had  similar 
experiences.  The  unwary  foreigner  who  has  heard 
that  there  is  in  Russia  a  very  important  institution 
called  the  "Conseil  d'Etat"  naturally  supposes  that 
a  "Conseiller  d'Etat"  is  a  member  of  that  venerable 
body;  and  if  he  meets  "Son  Excellence  le  Conseiller 
prive,"  he  is  pretty  sure  to  assume  —  especially  if 
the  word  "actuel"  has  been  affixed  —  that  he  sees 
a  real  living  member  of  the  Russian  Privy  Council. 
When  to  the  title  is  added  "de  S.M.  I'Empereur 
de  toutes  les  Russies,"  a  boundless  field  is  opened 
up  to  the  non-Russian  imagination.  In  reality  these 
titles  are  not  nearly  so  important  as  they  seem.  The 
soi-disant  "Conseiller  de  Cour"  has  probably  noth- 
ing to  do  with  the  court.  The  Conseiller  d'Etat  is 
so  far  from  being  a  member  of  the  Conseil  d'  Etat 
that  he  cannot  possibly  become  a  member  till  he 
receives  a  higher  Tchin.^    As  to  the  Privy  Coun- 

^  In  Russian  the  two  words  are  quite  diflFereat;  the  Council  is  called  Oosu- 
darstvenny  Sovfit,  and  the  title  Statshi  Sovfitnik. 

'Z55 


RUSSIA 

cillor,  it  is  sufficient  to  say  that  the  Privy  Council, 
which  had  a  very  odious  reputation  in  its  lifetime, 
died  more  than  a  century  ago,  and  has  not  since 
been  resuscitated.  The  explanation  of  these  anom- 
alies is  to  be  found  in  the  fact  that  the  Russian 
Tchins,  like  the  German  honorary  titles  —  Hofrath, 
Staatsrath,  Geheimrath  —  of  which  they  are  a  lit- 
eral translation,  indicate  not  actual  office,  but  simply 
official  rank.  Formerly  the  appointment  to  an  office 
generally  depended  on  the  Tchin;  now  there  is  a  ten- 
dency to  reverse  the  old  order  of  things  and  make 
the  Tchin  depend  upon  the  office  actually  held. 

If  we  remember  that  the  difficulties  of  centralised 
administration  are  always  in  direct  proportion  to  the 
extent  and  territorial  variety  of  the  country  to  be 
governed,  we  may  readily  understand  how  slowly 
and  imperfectly  the  administrative  machine  neces- 
sarily works  in  Russia.  The  whole  of  the  vast  region 
stretching  from  the  Polar  Ocean  to  the  Caspian, 
and  from  the  shores  of  the  Baltic  to  the  confines  of 
the  Celestial  Empire,  is  administered  from  St.  Peters- 
burg. The  genuine  bureaucrat  has  a  wholesome 
dread  of  formal  responsibility,  and  generally  tries  to 
avoid  it  by  taking  all  matters  out  of  the  hands  of 
his  subordinates  and  passing  them  on  to  the  higher 
authorities.  As  soon,  therefore,  as  affairs  are  caught 
up  by  the  administrative  machine  they  begin  to 
ascend,  and  probably  arrive  some  day  at  the  cabinet 
of  the  minister.  Thus  the  ministries  are  flooded 
with  papers  —  many  of  the  most  trivial  import  — 
from  ail  parts  of  the  Empire;  and  the  higher  officials, 

256 


ADMINISTRATION 

even  if  they  had  the  eyes  of  an  Argus  and  the 
hands  of  a  Briareus,  could  not  possibly  fulfil  consci- 
entiously the  duties  imposed  on  them.  In  reality  the 
Russian  administrators  of  the  higher  ranks  recall 
neither  Argus  nor  Briareus.  They  commonly  show 
neither  an  extensive  nor  a  profound  knowledge  of 
the  country  which  they  are  supposed  to  govern,  and 
seem  always  to  have  a  fair  amount  of  leisure  time 
at  their  disposal. 

Besides  the  unavoidable  evils  of  excessive  central- 
isation, Russia  has  had  to  suffer  much  from  the  job- 
bery, venality,  and  extortion  of  the  officials.  When 
Peter  the  Great  one  day  prepared  to  hang  every 
man  who  should  steal  as  much  as  would  buy  a  rope, 
his  Procurator- General  frankly  replied  that  if  his 
Majesty  put  his  project  into  execution  there  would 
be  no  officials  left.  "We  all  steal,"  added  the  wor- 
thy official;  "the  only  difference  is  that  some  of  us 
steal  larger  amounts  and  more  openly  than  others.'* 
Since  these  words  were  spoken  more  than  a  century 
and  a  half  has  passed,  and  during  all  that  time 
Russia  has  steadily  made  progress  in  many  respects, 
but  until  the  commencement  of  the  present  reign 
little  change  took  place  in  the  moral  character  of 
the  administration.  The  elder  half  of  the  present 
generation  can  still  remember  the  time  when  they 
could  have  repeated,  without  much  exaggeration, 
the  confession  of  Peter's  Procurator-General. 

To  appreciate  aright  this  ugly  phenomenon  we 
must  distinguish  two  kinds  of  venality.  On  the 
one  hand  there  was  the  habit  of  exacting  what  are 

BUSSIA  I  — 17  257 


RUSSIA 

vulgarly  termed  "tips"  for  services  performed,  and 
on  the  other  there  were  the  various  kinds  of  positive 
dishonesty.  Though  it  might  not  be  always  easy 
to  draw  a  clear  line  between  the  two  categories,  the 
distinction  was  fully  recognized  in  the  moral  con- 
sciousness of  the  time,  and  many  an  official  who 
received  regularly  *' sinless  revenues"  {bezgreshniye 
dokhodi),  as  the  tips  were  sometimes  called,  would 
have  been  very  indignant  had  he  been  stigmatised 
as  a  dishonest  man.  The  practice  was,  in  fact, 
universal,  and  could  be,  to  a  certain  extent,  justified 
by  the  smallness  of  the  official  salaries.  In  some 
departments  there  was  a  recognised  tariff.  The 
"brandy  farmers,"  for  example,  paid  regularly  a 
fixed  sum  to  every  official,  from  the  governor  to 
the  policeman,  according  to  his  rank.  I  know  of 
one  case  where  an  official,  on  receiving  a  larger 
sum  than  was  customary,  conscientiously  handed 
back  the  change!  The  other  and  more  heinous 
offences  were  by  no  means  so  common,  but  were 
still  fearfully  frequent.  Many  high  officials  and 
important  dignitaries  were  known  to  receive  large 
revenues,  to  which  the  term  "sinless"  could  not  by 
any  means  be  applied,  and  yet  they  retained  their 
position,  and  were  received  in  society  with  respect- 
ful deference.  That  undeniable  fact  speaks  volumes 
for  the  moral  atmosphere  of  the  official  world  at 
that  time. 

In  justice  to  the  bureaucratic  reformers  in  Russia 
it  must  be  said  that  they  have  preferred  prevention 
to  cure.     Refraining  from  all  Draconian  legislation, 

258 


ADMINISTRATION 

they  have  put  their  faith  in  a  system  of  ingenious 
checks  and  a  compHcated  formal  procedure.  When 
we  examine  the  comphcated  formahties  and  labyrin- 
thine procedure  by  which  the  administration  is  con- 
trolled, our  first  impression  is  that  administrative 
abuses  must  be  almost  impossible.  Every  possible 
act  of  every  oflScial  seems  to  have  been  foreseen, 
and  every  possible  outlet  from  the  narrow  path  of 
honesty  seems  to  have  been  carefully  walled  up. 
As  the  usual  reader  has  probably  no  conception 
of  formal  procedure  in  a  highly  centralised  bureau- 
cracy, let  me  give  an  instance  by  way  of  illustration. 
In  the  residence  of  a  Governor-General  one  of  the 
stoves  is  in  need  of  repairs.  An  ordinary  mortal 
may  assume  that  a  man  with  the  rank  of  Governor- 
General  may  be  trusted  to  expend  a  few  shillings 
conscientiously,  and  that  consequently  his  Excel- 
lency will  at  once  order  the  repairs  to  be  made  and 
the  payment  to  be  put  down  among  the  petty  ex- 
penses. To  the  bureaucratic  mind  the  case  appears 
in  a  very  different  light.  All  possible  contingencies 
must  be  carefully  provided  for.  As  a  Governor- 
General  may  possibly  be  possessed  with  a  mania 
for  making  useless  alterations,  the  necessity  of  the 
repairs  ought  to  be  verified;  and  as  wisdom  and 
honesty  are  more  likely  to  reside  in  an  assembly 
than  in  an  individual,  it  is  well  to  entrust  the  veri- 
fication to  a  council.  A  council  of  three  or  four 
members  accordingly  certifies  that  the  repairs  are 
necessary.  This  is  pretty  strong  authority,  but  it 
is    not   enough.     Councils    are   composed   of    mere 

259 


RUSSIA 

human  beings,  liable  to  error  and  subject  to  be  in- 
timidated by  the  Governor-General.  It  is  prudent, 
therefore,  to  demand  that  the  decision  of  the  coun- 
cil be  confirmed  by  the  Procureur,  who  is  directly 
subordinated  to  the  Minister  of  Justice.  When  this 
double  confirmation  has  been  obtained,  an  architect 
examines  the  stove  and  makes  an  estimate.  But 
it  would  be  dangerous  to  give  carte  blanche  to  an 
architect,  and  therefore  the  estimate  has  to  be  con- 
firmed, first  by  the  aforesaid  council  and  afterwards 
by  the  Procureur.  When  all  these  formalities  — 
which  require  sixteen  days  and  ten  sheets  of  paper 
—  have  been  duly  observed,  his  Excellency  is  in- 
formed that  the  contemplated  repairs  will  cost  two 
roubles  and  forty  kopeks,  or  about  five  shillings  of 
our  money.  Even  here  the  formalities  do  not  stop, 
for  the  Government  must  have  the  assurance  that 
the  architect  who  made  the  estimate  and  superin- 
tended the  repairs  has  not  been  guilty  of  negligence. 
A  second  architect  is  therefore  sent  to  examine  the 
work,  and  his  report,  like  the  estimate,  requires  to 
be  confirmed  by  the  council  and  the  Procureur. 
The  whole  correspondence  lasts  thirty  days,  and 
requires  no  less  than  thirty  sheets  of  paper!  Had 
the  person  who  desired  the  repairs  been  not  a  Gover- 
nor-General but  an  ordinary  mortal,  it  is  impossible 
to  say  how  long  the  procedure  might  have  lasted. 

It  might  naturally  be  supposed  that  this  circui- 
tous and  complicated  method,  with  its  registers, 
ledgers,  and  minutes  of  proceeding,  must  at  least 
prevent  pilfering;  but  this  a  priori  conclusion  has 

260 


ADMINISTRATION 

been  emphatically  belied  by  experience.  Every  new 
ingenious  device  had  merely  the  effect  of  producing 
a  still  more  ingenious  means  of  avoiding  it.  The 
system  did  not  restrain  those  who  wished  to  pilfer, 
and  it  had  a  deleterious  effect  on  honest  oflScials, 
by  making  them  feel  that  the  Government  reposed 
no  confidence  in  them.  Besides  this,  it  produced 
among  all  officials,  honest  and  dishonest  alike,  the 
habit  of  systematic  falsification.  As  it  was  impos- 
sible for  even  the  most  pedantic  of  men  —  and 
pedantry,  be  it  remarked,  is  a  rare  quality  among 
Russians  —  to  fulfil  conscientiously  all  the  pre- 
scribed formalities,  it  became  customary  to  observe 
the  forms  merely  on  paper.  Officials  certified  facts 
which  they  never  dreamed  of  examining,  and  secre- 
taries gravely  wrote  the  minutes  of  meetings  that 
had  never  been  held !  Thus,  in  the  case  above  cited, 
the  repairs  were  in  reality  begun  and  ended  long 
before  the  architect  was  officially  authorised  to  begin 
the  work.  The  comedy  was  nevertheless  gravely 
played  out  to  the  end,  so  that  any  one  afterwards 
revising  the  documents  would  have  found  that  every- 
thing had  been  done  in  perfect  order. 

Perhaps  the  most  ingenious  means  for  preventing 
administrative  abuses  was  devised  by  the  Emperor 
Nicholas.  Fully  aware  that  he  was  regularly  and 
systematically  deceived  by  the  ordinary  officials, 
he  formed  a  body  of  well-paid  officers,  called  the 
"Gendarmerie,"  w^ho  were  scattered  over  the  coun- 
try and  ordered  to  report  directly  to  his  Majesty 
whatever    seemed    to    them    worthy   of   attention. 

261 


RUSSIA 

Bureaucratic  minds  considered  this  an  admirable 
expedient;  and  the  Tsar  confidently  expected  that 
he  would,  by  means  of  these  official  observers  who 
had  no  interest  in  concealing  the  truth,  be  able  to 
know  everything,  and  to  correct  all  official  abuses. 
In  reality  the  institution  produced  few  good  results, 
and  in  some  respects  had  a  very  pernicious  influ- 
ence. Though  picked  men  and  provided  with  good 
salaries,  these  officers  were  all  more  or  less  perme- 
ated with  the  prevailing  spirit.  They  could  not  but 
feel  that  they  were  regarded  as  spies  and  informers  — 
a  humiliating  conviction,  little  calculated  to  develop 
that  feeling  of  self-respect  which  is  the  main  foun- 
dation of  uprightness  —  and  that  all  their  efforts 
could"  do  but  little  good.  They  were,  in  fact,  in 
pretty  much  the  same  position  as  Peter's  Procu- 
rator-General, and,  with  that  bonhomie  which  is  a 
prominent  trait  of  the  Russian  character,  they  dis- 
liked ruining  individuals  who  were  no  worse  than 
the  majority  of  their  fellows.  Besides  this,  accord- 
ing to  the  received  code  of  official  morality,  insub- 
ordination was  a  more  heinous  sin  than  dishonesty, 
and  political  offences  were  regarded  as  the  blackest 
of  all.  The  gendarmerie  shut  their  eyes,  therefore, 
to  the  prevailing  abuses,  which  were  believed  to  be 
incurable,  and  directed  their  attention  to  real  or 
imaginary  political  delinquencies.  Oppression  and 
extortion  remained  unnoticed,  whilst  an  incautious 
word  or  a  foolish  joke  at  the  expense  of  the  Gov- 
ernment was  too  often  magnified  into  an  act  of 
high  treason. 

262 


ADMINISTRATION 

My  relations  with  this  anomalous  branch  of  the 
administration  were  somewhat  peculiar.  After  my 
experience  with  the  Vice-Governor  of  Novgorod  I 
determined  to  place  myself  above  suspicion,  and 
accordingly  applied  to  the  "Chef  des  Gendarmes" 
for  some  kind  of  official  document  which  would 
prove  to  all  officials  with  whom  I  might  come  in 
contact  that  I  had  no  illicit  designs.  My  request 
was  granted,  and  I  was  furnished  with  the  neces- 
sary documents;  but  I  soon  found  that  in  seeking 
to  avoid  Scylla  I  had  fallen  into  Chary bdis.  In 
calming  official  suspicions  I  inadvertently  aroused 
suspicions  of  another  kind.  The  documents  proving 
that  I  enjoyed  the  protection  of  the  Government 
made  many  people  suspect  that  I  was  an  emissary 
of  the  gendarmerie,  and  greatly  impeded  me  in  my 
efforts  to  collect  information  from  private  sources. 
As  the  private  were  for  me  more  important  than 
the  official  sources  of  information,  I  refrained  from 
asking  for  a  renewal  of  the  protection,  and  wandered 
about  the  country  as  an  ordinary  unprotected  trav- 
eller. For  some  time  I  had  no  cause  to  regret  this 
decision.  I  had  reason  to  believe  that  I  was  pretty 
closely  watched,  and  that  my  letters  were  some- 
times opened  at  the  post-office,  but  I  was  sub- 
jected to  no  further  inconvenience.  At  last,  however, 
when  I  had  nearly  forgotten  all  about  Scylla  and 
Charybdis,  I  one  night  unexpectedly  ran  upon  the 
former,  and,  to  my  astonishment,  found  myself 
formally  arrested!  The  incident  happened  in  this 
wise: 

263 


RUSSIA 

In  the  summer  of  1872  I  had  occasion  to  visit 
Austria  and  Servia,  and  after  a  short  absence, 
returned  to  Russia  through  Moldavia.  On  arriving 
at  the  Pruth,  which  there  forms  the  frontier,  I 
found  an  officer  of  gendarmerie,  whose  duty  it  was 
to  examine  the  passports  of  all  passers-by.  Though 
my  passport  was  completely  en  regie,  having  been 
duly  vise  by  the  British  and  Russian  Consuls  at 
Galatz,  this  gentleman  subjected  me  to  a  searching 
examination  regarding  my  past  life,  actual  occupa- 
tion, and  intentions  for  the  future.  On  learning 
that  I  had  been  for  more  than  two  years  travelling 
in  Russia  at  my  own  expense,  for  the  simple  purpose 
of  collecting  miscellaneous  information,  he  looked  a 
little  incredulous,  and  seemed  to  have  some  doubts 
as  to  my  being  a  genuine  British  subject;  but  when 
my  statements  w^ere  confirmed  by  my  travelling 
companion,  a  Russian  friend  who  carried  awe-inspir- 
ing credentials,  he  countersigned  my  passport  and 
allowed  us  to  depart.  The  inspection  of  our  luggage 
by  the  custom-house  officers  was  soon  got  over; 
and  as  we  drove  off  to  the  neighbouring  village, 
where  we  were  to  spend  the  night,  we  congratulated 
ourselves  on  having  escaped  for  some  time  from  all 
contact  with  the  official  world.  In  this  we  were 
"reckoning  without  the  host."  As  the  clock  struck 
twelve  that  night  I  was  roused  by  a  loud  knocking 
at  my  door,  and  after  a  good  deal  of  parley,  during 
which  some  one  proposed  to  effect  an  entrance  by 
force,  I  drew  the  bolt.  The  officer  who  had  signed 
my  passport  entered,  and  said,   in  a  stiff,  official 

264 


ADMINISTRATION 

tone,  "  I  must  request  you  to  remain  here  for  twenty- 
four  hours." 

Not  a  Httle  astonished  by  this  announcement,  I 
ventured  to  inquire  the  reason  for  this  strange 
request. 

"That  is  my  business,"  was  the  laconic  reply. 

"Perhaps  it  is;  still  you  must,  on  mature  con- 
sideration, admit  that  I  too  have  some  interest  in 
the  matter.  To  my  extreme  regret  I  cannot  comply 
with  your  request,  and  must  leave  at  sunrise." 

"You  shall  not  leave.     Give  me  your  passport." 

"Unless  detained  by  force,  I  shall  start  at  four 
o'clock;  and  as  I  wish  to  get  some  sleep  before  that 
time  I  must  request  you  instantly  to  retire.  You 
had  the  right  to  stop  me  at  the  frontier,  but  you  have 
no  right  to  come  and  disturb  me  in  this  fashion,  and 
I  shall  certainly  report  you.  My  passport  I  shall 
give  to  none  but  a  regular  officer  of  police." 

Here  followed  a  long  discussion  on  the  rights, 
privileges,  and  general  character  of  the  gendarmerie, 
during  which  my  opponent  gradually  laid  aside  his 
dictatorial  tone,  and  endeavoured  to  convince  me 
that  the  honourable  body  to  which  he  belonged  was 
merely  an  ordinary  branch  of  the  administration. 
Though  evidently  irritated,  he  never,  I  must  say, 
overstepped  the  bounds  of  politeness,  and  seemed 
only  half  convinced  that  he  was  justified  in  inter- 
fering with  my  movements.  When  he  found  that 
he  could  not  induce  me  to  give  up  my  passport  he 
withdrew,  and  I  again  lay  down  to  rest,  but  in  about 
half   an   hour   I  was   again   disturbed.     This  time 

265 


RUSSIA 

an  officer  of  regular  police  entered,  and  demanded 
my  "papers."  To  my  inquiries  as  to  the  reason  of 
all  this  disturbance,  he  replied,  in  a  very  polite, 
apologetic  way,  that  he  knew  nothing  about  the 
reason,  but  he  had  received  orders  to  arrest  me,  and 
must  obey.  To  him  I  delivered  my  passport,  on 
condition  that  I  should  receive  a  written  receipt, 
and  should  be  allowed  to  telegraph  to  the  British 
ambassador  in  St.  Petersburg. 

Early  next  morning  I  telegraphed  to  the  ambas- 
sador, and  waited  impatiently  all  day  for  a  reply. 
I  was  allowed  to  walk  about  the  village  and  the 
immediate  vicinit3%  but  of  this  permission  I  did  not 
make  much  use.  The  village  population  was  entirely 
Jewish,  and  Jews  in  that  part  of  the  world  have  a 
wonderful  capacity  for  spreading  intelligence.  By 
the  early  morning  there  was  probably  not  a  man, 
woman,  or  child  in  the  place  who  had  not  heard  of 
my  arrest,  and  many  of  them  felt  a  not  unnatural 
curiosity  to  see  the  malefactor  who  had  been  caught 
by  the  police.  To  be  stared  at  as  a  malefactor  is 
not  very  agreeable,  so  I  preferred  to  remain  in  my 
room,  where,  in  the  company  of  my  friend,  who 
kindly  remained  with  me  and  made  small  jokes 
about  the  boasted  liberty  of  British  subjects,  I 
spent  the  time  pleasantly  enough.  The  most  dis- 
agreeable part  of  the  affair  was  the  uncertainty  as 
to  how  many  days,  weeks,  or  months  I  might  be 
detained,  and  on  this  point  the  police-officer  would 
not  even  hazard  a  conjecture. 

The   detention   came   to   an   end   sooner   than   I 

266 


ADMINISTRATION 

expected.  On  the  following  day  —  that  is  to  say, 
about  thirty-six  hours  after  the  nocturnal  visit  — 
the  police-officer  brought  me  my  passport,  and  at 
the  same  time  a  telegram  from  the  Embassy  informed 
me  that  the  central  authorities  had  ordered  my 
release.  On  my  afterwards  pertinaciously  request- 
ing an  explanation  of  the  unceremonious  treatment 
to  which  I  had  been  subjected,  the  Minister  for  For- 
eign Affairs  explained  that  the  authorities  expected 
a  person  of  my  name  to  cross  the  frontier  about  that 
time  with  a  quantity  of  false  bank-notes,  and  that  I 
had  been  arrested  by  mistake.  I  must  confess  that 
this  explanation,  though  official,  seemed  to  me  more 
ingenious  than  satisfactory,  but  I  was  obliged  to 
accept  it,  and  I  had  never  afterwards  any  similar 
cause  for  complaint. 

To  return  from  this  digression.  Neither  the  gen- 
darmerie nor  the  ingenious  formal  procedure  mate- 
ially  diminished  the  venality,  dishonesty,  and  other 
vices  of  the  officials.  The  attempt  to  remedy  these 
evils  by  means  of  decentralisation  and  popular  elec- 
tion proved  equally  unsuccessful.  From  the  time 
of  Catherine  II,  down  to  the  commencement  of  the 
present  reign,  the  rural  police  and  the  judges  of 
each  province  and  district  were  elected  by  the  local 
inhabitants,  and  the  history  of  these  institutions, 
which  were,  if  possible,  worse  than  the  Imperial 
administration,  forms  an  ugly,  inconvenient  episode 
for  those  who  believe  in  the  magical  efficacy  of  local 
self-government  under  all  circumstances. 

The    only    effectual    remedy    for    administrative 

267 


RUSSIA 

abuses  lies  in  placing  the  administration  under 
public  control.  This  has  been  abundantly  proved  in 
Russia.  All  the  efforts  of  the  Tsars  during  many 
generations  to  check  the  evil  by  means  of  ingenious 
bureaucratic  devices  proved  utterly  fruitless.  Even 
the  iron  will  and  gigantic  energy  of  Nicholas  were 
insufficient  for  the  task.  But  when,  after  the  Cri- 
mean War,  there  was  a  great  moral  awakening 
and  the  Tsar  called  the  people  to  his  assistance, 
the  stubborn,  deep-rooted  evils  immediately  disap- 
peared. For  a  time  venality  and  extortion  were 
unknown,  and  since  that  period  they  have  never 
been  able  to  regain  their  old  force. 

At  the  present  moment  it  cannot  be  said  that  the 
administration  is  immaculate,  but  it  is  incomparably 
purer  than  at  any  former  period  of  its  history. 
Though  public  opinion  is  no  longer  so  powerful  as 
it  was  a  few  years  ago,  it  is  still  strong  enough  to 
repress  many  malpractices  which  in  the  time  of 
Nicholas  and  his  predecessors  were  too  frequent  to 
attract  attention.  On  this  subject  I  shall  have  more 
to  say  in  the  sequel. 


268 


CHAPTER  XIII 

LANDED  PROPRIETORS  OF  THE  OLD 
SCHOOL 

OF  all  the  foreign  countries  in  which  I  have 
travelled,  Russia  certainly  bears  off  the 
palm  in  all  that  regards  hospitality.  Every 
spring  I  found  myself  in  possession  of  a  large  num- 
ber of  invitations  from  landed  proprietors  in  differ- 
ent parts  of  the  country  —  far  more  than  I  could 
possibly  accept  —  and  a  great  part  of  the  summer 
was  generally  spent  in  wandering  about  from  one 
country-house  to  another.  I  have  no  intention  of 
asking  the  reader  to  accompany  me  in  these  expedi- 
tions—  for,  though  pleasant  in  reality,  they  might 
be  tedious  in  description  —  but  I  wish  to  convey  to 
him  some  idea  of  the  Russian  landed  proprietors, 
and  shall  therefore  single  out  for  description  a  few 
typical  specimens  of  the  class. 

Among  the  Russian  landed  proprietors  are  to  be 
found  nearly  all  ranks  and  conditions  of  men,  from 
the  rich  magnate,  surrounded  with  all  the  refined 
luxury  of  West-European  civilization,  to  the  poor, 
ill-clad,  ignorant  owner  of  a  few  acres  which  barely 
supply  him  with  the  necessaries  of  life.  Let  us 
take,  first  of  all,  a  few  specimens  from  the  middle 
ranks. 

269 


RUSSIA 

In  one  of  the  central  provinces,  near  the  bank  of 
a  sluggish,  meandering  stream,  stands  an  irregular 
group  of  wooden  constructions  —  old,  unpainted, 
blackened  by  time,  and  surmounted  by  high,  slop- 
ing roofs  of  moss-covered  planks.  The  principal 
building  is  a  long,  one-storeyed  dwelling-house,  con- 
structed at  right  angles  to  the  road.  At  the  front 
of  the  house  is  a  spacious,  ill-kept  yard,  and  at  the 
back  an  equally  spacious  shady  garden,  in  which  art 
carries  on  a  feeble  conflict  with  encroaching  nature. 
At  the  other  side  of  the  yard,  and  facing  the  front 
door  —  or  rather  the  front  doors,  for  there  are  two 
—  stand  the  stables,  hay-shed,  and  granary,  and 
near  to  that  end  of  the  house  which  is  furthest  from 
the  road  are  two  smaller  houses,  one  of  which  is  the 
kitchen,  and  the  other  the  Lyudskaya,  or  servants' 
apartments.  Beyond  these  we  can  perceive,  through 
a  single  row  of  lime-trees,  another  group  of  time- 
blackened  wooden  constructions  in  a  still  more 
dilapidated  condition.     That  is  the  farmyard.    • 

There  is  certainly  not  much  symmetry  in  the  dis- 
position of  these  buildings,  but  there  is  nevertheless 
a  certain  order  and  meaning  in  the  apparent  chaos. 
All  the  buildings  which  do  not  require  stoves  are 
built  at  a  considerable  distance  from  the  dwelling- 
house  and  kitchen,  which  are  more  liable  to  take 
fire;  and  the  kitchen  stands  by  itself,  because  the 
odour  of  cookery  where  oil  is  used  is  by  no  means 
agreeable,  even  for  those  whose  olfactory  nerves  are 
not  very  sensitive.  The  plan  of  the  house  is  like- 
wise not  without  a  certain  meaning.     The  rigorous 

270 


LANDED    PROPRIETORS 

separation  of  the  sexes,  which  formed  a  character- 
istic trait  of  old  Russian  society,  has  long  since 
disappeared,  but  its  influence  may  still  be  traced  in 
houses  built  on  the  old  model.  The  house  in  question 
is  one  of  these,  and  consequently  it  is  composed  of 
three  sections  —  at  the  one  end  the  male  apartments, 
at  the  other  the  female  apartments,  and  in  the  middle 
the  neutral  territory,  comprising  the  dining-room  and 
the  salon.  This  arrangement  has  its  conveniences, 
and  explains  the  fact  that  the  house  has  two  front 
doors.  At  the  back  is  a  third  door,  which  opens 
from  the  neutral  territory  into  a  spacious  verandah 
overlooking  the  garden. 

Here  lives  and  has  lived  for  many  years  Ivan 

Ivanovitch  K ,  a  gentleman  of  the  old  school, 

and  a  very  worthy  man  of  his  kind.  If  we  look  at 
him  as  he  sits  in  his  comfortable  arm-chair,  with  his 
capacious  dressing-gown  hanging  loosely  about  him, 
and  his  long  Turkish  pipe  in  his  hand,  we  shall  be 
able  to  read  at  a  glance  something  of  his  character. 
Nature  endowed  him  with  large  bones  and  broad 
shoulders,  and  evidently  intended  him  to  be  a  man 
of  great  muscular  power,  but  he  has  contrived  to 
frustrate  this  benevolent  intention,  and  has  now 
more  fat  than  muscle.  His  close-cropped  head  is 
round  as  a  bullet,  and  his  features  are  massive  and 
heavy,  but  the  heaviness  is  relieved  by  an  expres- 
sion of  calm  contentment  and  imperturbable  good- 
nature, which  occasionally  blossoms  into  a  broad 
grin.  His  face  is  one  of  those  on  which  no  amount  of 
histrionic  talent  could  produce  a  look  of  care  and 

271 


RUSSIA 

anxiety,  and  for  this  it  is  not  to  blame,  for  such  an 
expression  has  never  been  demanded  of  it.  Like 
other  mortals  he  experiences  sometimes  little  annoy- 
ances, and  on  such  occasions  his  small  grey  eyes 
sparkle  and  his  face  becomes  suffused  with  a  crimson 
glow  that  suggests  apoplexy;  but  ill-fortune  has 
never  been  able  to  get  sufficiently  firm  hold  of  him 
to  make  him  understand  what  such  words  as  care 
and  anxiety  mean.  Of  struggle,  disappointment, 
hope,  and  all  the  other  feelings  which  give  to  human 
life  a  dramatic  interest,  he  knows  little  by  hearsay 
and  nothing  by  experience.  He  has,  in  fact,  always 
lived  outside  of  that  struggle  for  existence  which 
modern  philosophers  declare  to  be  the  law  of  Nature. 
Somewhere  about  sixty  years  ago  Ivan  Ivan'itch 
was  born  in  the  house  where  he  still  lives.  His  first 
lessons  he  received  from  the  parish  priest,  and  after- 
wards he  was  taught  by  a  deacon's  son,  who  had 
studied  in  the  ecclesiastical  seminary  to  so  little 
purpose  that  he  was  unable  to  pass  the  final  examina- 
tion. By  both  of  these  teachers  he  was  treated  with 
extreme  leniency,  and  was  allowed  to  learn  as  little 
as  he  chose.  His  father  wished  him  to  study  hard, 
but  his  mother  was  afraid  that  study  might  injure 
his  health,  and  accordingly  gave  him  several  holidays 
every  week.  Under  these  circumstances  his  progress 
was  naturally  not  very  rapid,  and  he  was  still  very 
slightly  acquainted  with  the  elementary  rules  of 
arithmetic,  when  his  father  one  day  declared  that 
he  was  already  eighteen  years  of  age,  and  must  at 
once  enter  the  service.     But  what  kind  of  service? 

272 


LANDED    PROPRIETORS 

Ivan  had  no  natural  inclination  for  any  kind  of 
activity.  The  project  of  entering  him  as  a  "Junker" 
in  a  cavalry  regiment,  the  colonel  of  which  was  an 
old  friend  of  his  father's,  did  not  at  all  please  him. 
He  had  no  love  for  military  service,  and  positively  dis- 
liked the  prospect  of  an  examination.  Whilst  seeming, 
therefore,  to  bow  implicitly  to  the  paternal  authority, 
he  induced  his  mother  to  oppose  the  scheme. 

The  dilemma  in  which  Ivan  found  himself  was 
this:  in  deference  to  his  father  he  wished  to  be  in 
the  service  and  to  gain  that  official  rank  which  every 
Russian  noble  desires  to  possess,  and  at  the  same 
time,  in  deference  to  his  mother  and  his  own  tastes, 
he  wished  to  remain  at  home  and  continue  his 
indolent  mode  of  life.  The  Marshal  of  Noblesse, 
who  happened  to  call  one  day,  helped  him  out  of 
the  difficulty  by  offering  to  inscribe  him  as  secretary 
in  the  Dvorydnskaya  Ojpeka,  a  bureau  which  acts 
as  curator  for  the  estates  of  minors.  All  the  duties 
of  this  office  could  be  fulfilled  by  a  paid  secretary, 
and  the  nominal  occupant  would  be  periodically 
promoted  as  if  he  were  an  active  official.  This  was 
precisely  what  Ivan  required.  He  accepted  eagerly 
the  proposal,  and  obtained,  in  the  course  of  seven 
years,  without  any  effort  on  his  part,  the  rank  of 
"collegiate  secretary,"  corresponding  to  the  "Capi- 
taine-en-second "  of  the  military  hierarchy.  To 
mount  higher  he  would  have  had  to  seek  some  place 
where  he  could  not  have  fulfilled  his  duty  by  proxy, 
so  he  determined  to  rest  on  his  easily-won  laurels, 
and  sent  in  his  resignation. 

RUSSIA   1  —  18  273 


RUSSIA 

Immediately  after  the  termination  of  his  official 
life  his  married  life  began.  Before  his  resignation 
had  been  accepted  he  suddenly  found  himself  one 
morning  on  the  high  road  to  matrimony.  Here 
again  there  was  no  effort  on  his  part.  The  course 
of  true  love,  which  is  said  never  to  run  smooth  for 
ordinary  mortals,  ran  smooth  for  him.  He  never 
had  even  the  trouble  of  proposing.  The  whole 
affair  was  arranged  by  his  parents,  who  chose  as 
bride  for  their  son  the  only  daughter  of  their  near- 
est neighbour.  The  young  lady  was  only  about 
sixteen  years  of  age,  and  was  not  remarkable  for 
beauty,  talent,  or  any  other  peculiarity,  but  she 
had  one  very  important  qualification  —  she  was  the 
daughter  of  a  man  who  had  an  estate  contiguous 
to  their  own,  and  who  might  give  as  a  dowry  a  cer- 
tain bit  of  land  which  they  had  long  desired  to  add 
to  their  own  property.  The  negotiations,  being  of 
a  delicate  nature,  were  entrusted  to  an  old  lady 
who  had  a  great  reputation  for  diplomatic  skill  in 
such  matters,  and  she  accomplished  her  mission 
with  such  success  that  in  the  course  of  a  few 
weeks  the  preliminaries  were  arranged  and  the  day 
fixed  for  the  wedding.  Thus  Ivan  Ivan 'itch  won 
his  bride  as  easily  as  he  had  won  his  Tchin  of 
*' collegiate  secretary." 

Though  the  bridegroom  had  received  rather  than 
taken  to  himself  a  wife  and  did  not  imagine  for  a 
moment  that  he  was  in  love,  he  had  no  reason  to 
regret  the  choice  that  was  made  for  him.  Maria 
Petrovna  was  exactly  suited  by  character  and  edu- 

274 


LANDED   PROPRIETORS 

cation  to  be  the  wife  of  a  man  like  Ivan  Ivan 'itch. 
She  had  grown  up  at  home  in  the  society  of  nurses 
and  servant-maids,  and  had  never  learned  anything 
more  than  could  be  obtained  from  the  parish  priest 
and  from  "Ma'mselle,"  a  personage  occupying  a 
position  midway  between  a  servant-maid  and  a 
governess.  The  first  events  of  her  life  were  the 
announcement  that  she  was  to  be  married  and  the 
preparations  for  the  wedding.  All  her  life  after- 
wards she  remembered  the  delight  which  the  pur- 
chase of  her  trousseau  afforded  her,  and  kept  in 
her  memory  a  full  catalogue  of  the  articles  bought. 
The  first  years  of  her  married  life  were  not  very 
happy,  for  she  was  treated  by  her  mother-in-law 
as  a  naughty  child  who  required  to  be  frequently 
snubbed  and  lectured;  but  she  bore  the  discipline 
with  exemplary  patience,  and  in  due  time  became 
her  own  mistress  and  autocratic  ruler  in  all  domes- 
tic affairs.  From  that  time  she  has  lived  an  active, 
uneventful  life.  Between  her  and  her  husband  there 
is  as  much  mutual  attachment  as  can  reasonably 
be  expected  in  phlegmatic  natures  after  thirty  years 
of  matrimony.  She  devotes  all  her  energies  to  sat- 
isfying his  simple  material  wants  —  of  intellectual 
wants  he  has  none  —  and  securing  his  comfort  in 
every  possible  way.  Under  this  fostering  care  he 
has,  as  he  is  wont  to  say,  *' effeminated  himself" 
(obdbilsya).  His  love  of  hunting  and  shooting  has 
died  out,  he  cares  less  and  less  to  visit  his  neigh- 
bours, and  each  successive  year  he  spends  more 
and  more  time  in  his  comfortable  arm-chair. 

275 


RUSSIA 

The  daily  life  of  this  worthy  couple  is  singu- 
larly regular  and  monotonous,  varying  only  with 
the  changing  seasons.  In  summer  Ivan  Ivan'itch 
gets  up  about  seven  o'clock,  and  puts  on,  with  the 
assistance  of  his  valet  de  chambre,  a  simple  cos- 
tume, consisting  chiefly  of  a  faded,  plentifully- 
stained  dressing-gown.  Having  nothing  particular 
to  do,  he  sits  down  at  the  open  window  and  looks 
into  the  yard.  As  the  servants  pass  he  stops  and 
questions  them  and  then  gives  them  orders,  or 
scolds  them,  as  circumstances  demand.  Towards 
nine  o'clock  tea  is  announced,  and  he  goes  into  the 
dining-room  —  a  long,  narrow  apartment  with  bare 
wooden  floor  and  no  furniture  but  a  table  and  chairs, 
all  in  a  more  or  less  rickety  condition.  Here  he 
finds  his  wife  with  the  tea-urn  before  her.  In  a 
few  minutes  the  younger  children  come  in,  kiss 
their  papa's  hand,  and  take  their  places  round  the 
table.  As  this  morning  meal  consists  merely  of 
bread  and  tea,  it  does  not  last  long;  and  all  dis- 
perse to  their  several  occupations.  The  head  of  the 
house  begins  the  labours  of  the  day  by  resuming 
his  seat  at  the  open  window  and  having  his  Turk- 
ish pipe  filled  and  lighted  by  a  boy  whose  special 
function  is  to  keep  his  master's  pipes  in  order. 
When  he  has  smoked  two  or  three  pipes  and  in- 
dulged in  a  proportionate  amount  of  silent  contem- 
plation, he  goes  out  with  the  intention  of  visiting 
the  stables  and  farmyard,  but  generally  before  he 
has  crossed  the  court  he  finds  the  heat  unbearable, 
and   returns   to   his   former  position   by   the   open 

276 


LANDED    PROPRIETORS 

window.  Here  he  sits  tranquilly  till  the  sun  has  so 
far  moved  round  that  the  verandah  at  the  back  of 
the  house  is  completely  in  the  shade,  when  he  has 
his  arm-chair  removed  thither,  and  sits  there  till 
dinner-time. 

Maria  Petrovna  spends  her  morning  in  a  more 
active  way.  As  soon  as  the  breakfast-table  has  been 
cleared,  she  goes  to  the  larder,  takes  stock  of  the 
provisions,  arranges  the  menu  du  jour,  and  gives 
to  the  cook  the  necessary  materials,  with  detailed 
instructions  as  to  how  they  are  to  be  prepared.  The 
rest  of  the  morning  she  devotes  to  her  other  house- 
hold duties. 

Towards  one  o'clock  dinner  is  announced,  and 
Ivan  Ivan'itch  prepares  his  appetite  by  swallowing 
at  a  gulp  a  wine-glassful  of  home-made  bitters. 
Dinner  is  the  great  event  of  the  day.  The  food  is 
abundant  and  of  good  quality,  but  mushrooms, 
onions,  and  fat  play  a  rather  too  important  part  in 
the  repast,  and  the  whole  is  prepared  with  very 
little  attention  to  the  recognised  principles  of  culi- 
nary hygiene.  Many  of  the  dishes,  indeed,  would 
make  a  British  valetudinarian  stand  aghast,  but 
they  seem  to  produce  no  bad  effect  on  those  Rus- 
sian organisms  which  have  never  been  weak- 
ened by  town  life,  nervous  excitement,  or  intellectual 
exertion. 

No  sooner  has  the  last  dish  been  removed  than  a 
deathlike  stillness  falls  upon  the  house;  it  is  the  time 
of  the  after-dinner  siesta.  The  young  folks  go  into 
the  garden,  and  all  the  other  members  of  the  house- 

277 


RUSSIA 

hold  give  way  to  the  drowsiness  naturally  engen- 
dered by  a  heavy  meal  on  a  hot  summer  day.  Ivan 
Ivan'itch  retires  to  his  own  room,  from  which  the 
flies  have  been  carefully  expelled  by  his  pipe-bearer. 
Maria  Petrovna  dozes  in  an  arm-chair  in  the  sitting- 
room,  with  a  pocket-handkerchief  spread  over  her 
face.  The  servants  snore  in  the  corridors,  the  garret, 
or  the  hay-shed;  and  even  the  old  watch-dog  in  the 
corner  of  the  yard  stretches  himself  out  at  full  length 
on  the  shady  side  of  his  kennel. 

In  about  two  hours  the  house  gradually  re- 
awakens. Doors  begin  to  creak;  the  names  of  vari- 
ous servants  are  bawled  out  in  all  tones,  from  bass 
to  falsetto;  and  footsteps  are  heard  in  the  yard. 
Soon  a  man-servant  issues  from  the  kitchen,  bearing 
an  enormous  tea-urn,  which  puffs  like  a  little  steam- 
engine.  The  family  assemble  for  tea.  In  Russia, 
as  elsewhere,  sleep  after  a  heavy  meal  produces 
thirst,  so  that  the  tea  and  other  beverages  are  very 
acceptable.  Then  some  little  delicacies  are  served  — 
such  as  fruit  and  wild  berries,  or  cucumbers  with 
honey,  or  something  else  of  the  kind,  and  the  family 
again  disperses.  Ivan  Ivan'itch  takes  a  turn  in 
the  fields  on  his  hegovuiya  droshJci  —  an  extremely 
light  vehicle,  composed  of  two  pairs  of  wheels  joined 
together  by  a  single  board,  on  which  the  driver  sits 
stride-legged;  and  Maria  Petrovna  probably  receives 
a  visit  from  the  Popadya  (the  priest's  wife),  who  is 
the  chief  gossipmonger  of  the  neighbourhood.  There 
is  not  much  scandal  in  the  district,  but  what  little 
there   is   the   Popadya   carefully   collects,   and   dis- 

278 


LANDED    PROPRIETORS 

tributes  among  her  acquaintances  with  undiscrim- 
inating  generosity. 

In  the  evening  it  often  happens  that  a  little  group 
of  peasants  come  into  the  court,  and  ask  to  see  the 
"master,"  The  master  goes  to  the  door,  and  gener- 
ally finds  that  they  have  some  favour  to  request. 
In  reply  to  his  question,  "Well,  children,  what  do 
you  want?"  they  tell  their  story  in  a  confused,  ram- 
bling way,  several  of  them  speaking  at  a  time,  and 
he  has  to  question  and  cross-question  them  before 
he  comes  to  understand  clearly  what  they  desire. 
If  he  tells  them  he  cannot  grant  it,  they  probably 
do  not  accept  a  first  refusal,  but  endeavour  by  means 
of  supplication  to  make  him  reconsider  his  decision. 
Stepping  forward  a  little,  and  bowing  low,  one  of 
the  group  begins  in  a  half -respectful,  half-familiar, 
caressing  tone  —  "Little  father,  Ivan  Ivan'itch,  be 
gracious;  you  are  our  father,  and  we  are  your  chil- 
dren"—  and  so  on.  Ivan  Ivan'itch  good-naturedly 
listens,  and  again  explains  that  he  cannot  grant  what 
they  ask,  but  they  have  still  hopes  of  gaining  their 
point  by  entreaty,  and  continue  their  supplications 
till  at  last  his  patience  is  exhausted  and  he  says 
to  them  in  a  paternal  tone,  "Now  enough!  enough! 
you  are  blocklieads  —  blockheads  all  round!  there's 
no  use  talking,  it  can't  be  done."  And  with  these 
words  he  enters  the  house,  so  as  to  prevent  all  further 
discussion. 

A  regular  part  of  the  evening's  occupation  is  the 
interview  with  the  steward.  The  work  that  has 
just  been  done,  and  the  programme  for  the  morrow, 

279 


RUSSIA 

are  always  discussed  at  great  length;  and  much  time 
is  spent  in  speculating  as  to  the  weather  during  the 
next  few  days.  On  this  latter  point  the  calendar  is 
always  carefully  consulted,  and  great  confidence  is 
placed  in  its  predictions,  though  past  experience  has 
often  shown  that  they  are  not  to  be  implicitly  trusted. 
The  conversation  drags  on  till  supper  is  announced, 
and  immediately  after  that  meal,  which  is  an  abridged 
repetition  of  dinner,  all  retire  for  the  night. 

Thus  pass  the  days,  and  weeks,  and  months,  in 
the  house  of  Ivan  Ivan'itch,  and  rarely  is  there  any 
deviation  from  the  ordinary  programme.  The  cli- 
mate necessitates,  of  course,  some  slight  modifica- 
tions. Wlien  it  is  cold,  the  doors  and  windows  have 
to  be  kept  shut,  and  after  heavy  rains,  those  who  do 
not  like  to  wade  in  mud  have  to  remain  in  the  house 
or  garden.  In  the  long  winter  evenings  the  family 
assemble  in  the  sitting-room,  and  all  kill  time  as  they 
best  can.  Ivan  Ivan'itch  smokes  his  long  pipe,  and 
meditates,  or  listens  to  the  barrel-organ  played  by 
one  of  the  children.  Maria  Petrovna  knits  a  stock- 
ing. The  old  aunt,  who  commonly  spends  the  win- 
ter with  them,  plays  Patience,  and  sometimes  draws 
from  the  game  conclusions  as  to  the  future.  Her 
favourite  predictions  are  that  a  stranger  will  arrive, 
or  that  a  marriage  will  take  place,  and  she  can  de- 
termine the  sex  of  the  stranger  and  the  colour  of  the 
bridegroom's  hair;  but  beyond  this  her  art  does  not 
go,  and  she  cannot  satisfy  the  young  ladies'  curiosity 
as  to  further  details. 

Books  and  newspapers  are  rarely  seen  in  the  sit- 

280 


LANDED    PROPRIETORS 

ting-room,  but  for  those  who  wish  to  read,  there  is 
a  book-case  full  of  miscellaneous  literature,  which 
gives  some  idea  of  the  literary  tastes  of  the  family 
during  several  generations.  The  oldest  volumes  were 
bought  by  Ivan  Ivan'itch's  grandfather  —  a  man 
who,  according  to  the  family  traditions,  enjoyed  the 
confidence  of  the  great  Catherine.  Though  wholly 
overlooked  by  recent  historians,  he  was  evidently  a 
man  who  had  some  pretensions  to  culture.  He  had 
his  portrait  painted  by  a  foreign  artist  of  consid- 
erable talent  —  it  still  hangs  in  the  sitting-room  — 
and  he  bought  several  pieces  of  Sevres  ware,  the 
last  of  which  stands  on  a  commode  in  the  corner 
and  contrasts  strangely  with  the  rude  home-made 
furniture  and  squalid  appearance  of  the  apartment. 
Among  the  books  which  bear  his  name  are  the 
tragedies  of  Sumarokof,  who  imagined  himself  to  be 
"the  Russian  Voltaire;"  the  amusing  comedies  of 
Von-Wisin,  some  of  which  still  keep  the  stage;  the 
loud-sounding  odes  of  the  courtly  Derzhavin;  two  or 
three  books  containing  the  mystic  wisdom  of  Free- 
masonry as  interpreted  by  Schwarz  and  Novikoff; 
Russian  translations  of  Richardson's  "Pamela,"  "Sir 
Charles  Grandison,"  and  "Clarissa  Harlowe;"  Rous- 
seau's "Nouvelle  Heloise,"  in  Russian  garb;  and 
three  or  four  volumes  of  Voltaire  in  the  original. 
Among  the  works  collected  at  a  somewhat  later 
period  are  translations  of  Ann  Radcliffe,  of  Scott's 
early  novels,  and  of  Ducray  Dumenil,  whose  stories, 
"Lolotte  et  Fanfan"  and  "Victor,"  once  enjoyed  a 
great  reputation.     At  this  point  the  literary  tastes 

281 


RUSSIA 

of  the  family  appear  to  have  died  out,  for  the 
succeeding  Hterature  is  represented  exclusively  by 
Kryloff's  Fables,  a  farmer's  manual,  a  hand-book  of 
family  medicine,  and  a  series  of  calendars.  There 
are,  however,  some  signs  of  a  revival,  for  on  the 
lowest  shelf  stand  recent  editions  of  Pushkin,  Ler- 
montof,  and  Gogol,  and  a  few  works  by  living 
authors. 

Sometimes  the  monotony  of  the  winter  is  broken 
by  visiting  neighbours  and  receiving  visitors  in  re- 
turn, or  in  a  more  decided  way  by  a  visit  of  a  few 
days  to  the  capital  of  the  province.  In  the  latter 
case  Maria  Petrovna  spends  nearly  all  her  time  in 
shopping,  and  brings  home  a  large  collection  of 
miscellaneous  articles.  The  inspection  of  these  by 
the  assembled  family  forms  an  important  domestic 
event,  which  completely  throws  into  the  shade  the 
occasional  visits  of  pedlers  and  colporteurs.  Then 
there  are  the  festivities  at  Christmas  and  Easter 
and  occasionally  little  incidents  of  a  less  agreeable 
kind.  It  may  be  that  there  is  a  heavy  fall  of  snow, 
so  that  it  is  necessary  to  cut  roads  to  the  kitchen 
and  stables;  or  wolves  enter  the  courtyard  at  night 
and  have  a  fight  with  the  watch-dogs;  or  the  news 
is  brought  that  a  peasant  who  had  been  drinking  in 
a  neighbouring  village  has  been  found  frozen  to 
death  on  the  road. 

Altogether  the  family  live  a  very  isolated  life,  but 
they  have  one  bond  of  connection  with  the  great 
outer  world.  Two  of  the  sons  are  officers  in  the 
army,  and  both  of  them  write  home  occasionally  to 

282 


LANDED    PROPRIETORS 

their  mother  and  sisters.  To  these  two  youths  is 
devoted  all  the  little  stock  of  sentimentality  which 
Maria  Petrovna  possesses.  She  can  talk  of  them  by 
the  hour  to  any  one  who  will  listen  to  her,  and  has 
related  to  the  Popadya  a  hundred  times  every  trivial 
incident  of  their  lives.  Though  they  have  never 
given  her  much  cause  for  anxiety,  she  lives  in  con- 
stant fear  that  some  evil  may  befall  them.  What  she 
most  fears  is  that  they  may  be  sent  on  a  campaign  or 
may  fall  in  love  with  actresses.  War  and  actresses 
are  in  fact  the  two  bugbears  of  her  existence,  and 
whenever  she  has  a  disquieting  dream  she  asks  the 
priest  to  offer  up  a  moleben  for  the  safety  of  her 
absent  ones.  Sometimes  she  ventures  to  express  her 
anxiety  to  her  husband  and  recommends  him  to 
write  to  them;  but  he  considers  writing  a  letter  a 
very  serious  bit  of  work,  and  always  replies,  eva- 
sively, "Well,  well,  we  must  think  about  it.'* 

Ivan  Ivan'itch  does  certainly  not  possess  transcen- 
dent qualities  of  any  kind.  It  would  be  impossible 
to  make  a  hero  out  of  him,  even  though  his  own  son 
should  be  his  biographer.  Muscular  Christians  may 
reasonably  despise  him,  and  active,  energetic  men 
may  fairly  condemn  him  for  his  indolence  and  apathy. 
But  on  the  other  hand  he  has  no  very  bad  qualities. 
His  vices  are  of  the  passive,  negative  kind.  He  is 
a  respectable  if  not  distinguished  member  of  society, 
and  appears  a  very  worthy  man  when  compared 
with  many  of  his  neighbours  who  have  been  brought 
up  in  similar  conditions.  Take,  for  instance,  his 
younger  brother  Dimitri,  who  lives  a  short  way  off. 

283 


RUSSIA 

Dimitri  Ivanovitch,  like  his  brother  Ivan,  had 
been  endowed  by  Nature  with  a  very  decided  repug- 
nance to  prolonged  intellectual  exertion,  but  as  he 
was  a  man  of  good  parts  he  did  not  fear  a  junker's 
examination  —  especially  when  he  could  count  on 
the  colonel's  protection  —  and  accordingly  entered 
the  army.  In  his  regiment  were  a  number  of  jovial 
young  officers  like  himself,  always  ready  to  relieve 
the  monotony  of  garrison  life  by  a  little  boisterous 
dissipation,  and  among  these  he  easily  acquired  the 
reputation  of  being  a  thoroughly  good  fellow.  In 
drinking-bouts  he  could  hold  his  own  with  the  best  of 
them,  and  in  all  mad  pranks  invariably  played  the 
chief  part.  By  this  means  he  endeared  himself  to  his 
comrades,  and  for  a  time  all  went  well.  The  colonel 
had  himself  sown  wild  oats  plentifully  in  his  youth, 
and  was  quite  disposed  to  overlook,  as  far  as  pos- 
sible, the  bacchanalian  peccadilloes  of  his  subordi- 
nates. But  before  many  years  had  passed,  the 
regiment  suddenly  changed  its  character.  Certain 
rumours  had  reached  head-quarters,  and  the  Em- 
peror Nicholas  appointed  as  colonel  a  stern  disci- 
plinarian of  German  origin,  who  aimed  at  making 
the  regiment  a  kind  of  machine  that  should  work 
with  the  accuracy  of  a  chronometer.  This  change 
did  not  at  all  suit  the  tastes  and  habits  of  Dimitri 
Ivan'itch.  He  chafed  under  the  restraints  of  the 
new  regime,  and  as  soon  as  he  had  gained  the  rank 
of  lieutenant  retired  from  the  service  to  enjoy  the 
freedom  of  country  life.  Shortly  afterwards  his 
father  died,  and  he  thereby  became  owner  of  an 

284 


LANDED   PROPRIETORS 

estate,  with  two  hundred  serfs.  He  did  not,  Hke 
his  elder  brother,  marry  and  "effeminate  himself," 
but  he  did  worse.     In  his  little  independent  kingdom 

—  for  such  was  practically  a  Russian  estate  in  the 
good  old  times  which  have  recently  come  to  an  end 

—  he  was  lord  of  all  he  surveyed,  and  gave  full  scope 
to  his  boisterous  humour,  his  passion  for  sport,  and 
his  love  of  drinking  and  dissipation.  Many  of  the 
mad  pranks  in  which  he  indulged  will  long  be  pre- 
served by  popular  tradition,  but  they  cannot  well 
be  related  here. 

Dimitri  Ivan'itch  is  now  a  man  past  middle  age, 
and  still  continues  his  wild,  dissipated  life.  His 
house  resembles  an  ill-kept,  disreputable  tavern. 
The  floor  is  filthy,  the  furniture  chipped  and  broken, 
the  servants  indolent,  slovenly,  and  in  rags.  Dogs 
of  all  breeds  and  sizes  roam  about  the  rooms  and 
corridors.  The  master,  when  not  asleep,  is  always  in 
a  more  or  less  complete  state  of  intoxication.  Gen- 
erally he  has  one  or  two  guests  staying  with  him  — 
men  of  the  same  type  as  himself  —  and  days  and 
nights  are  spent  in  drinking  and  card-playing.  When 
he  cannot  have  his  usual  boon-companions  he  sends 
for  one  or  two  small  proprietors  who  live  near  — 
men  who  are  legally  nobles,  but  who  are  so  poor  that 
they  differ  little  from  peasants.  When  ordinary 
resources  fail  he  occasionally  has  recourse  to  the 
violent  expedient  of  ordering  his  servants  to  stop 
the  first  passing  travellers,  whoever  they  may  be, 
and  bring  them  in  by  persuasion  or  force,  as  cir- 
cumstances may  demand.     The  travellers  may  be 

285 


RUSSIA 

in  the  greatest  hurry,  or  they  may  have  the  most 
decided  repugnance  to  accepting  such  rough,  unde- 
sired  hospitahty,  but  all  their  excuses,  protestations, 
and  remonstrances  will  be  in  vain.  A  wheel  will  be 
taken  off  their  tarantass,  or  some  indispensable  part 
of  the  harness  will  be  secreted,  and  they  may  con- 
sider themselves  fortunate  if  they  succeed  in  getting 
away  next  morning.^ 

In  the  time  of  serfage  the  domestic  serfs  had 
much  to  bear  from  their  capricious,  violent  master. 
They  lived  in  an  atmosphere  of  abusive  language, 
and  were  subjected  not  unfrequently  to  corporal 
punishment.  Worse  than  this,  their  master  was 
constantly  threatening  to  "shave  their  forehead"  — 
that  is  to  say,  to  give  them  as  recruits  —  and  occa- 
sionally he  put  his  threat  into  execution,  in  spite  of 
the  wailings  and  entreaties  of  the  culprit  and  his 
relations.  And  yet,  strange  to  say,  nearly  all  of 
them  remained  with  him  as  free  servants  after  the 
Emancipation,  and  will  probably  remain  with  him 
till  he  is  ejected  by  his  creditors  or  carried  off  by 
a  stroke  of  apoplexy.  What  will  become  of  them 
then  it  is  difficult  to  say,  for  they  have  acquired 
habits  which  render  them  unfit  for  any  other  kind 
of  life. 

In  justice  to  the  Russian  landed  proprietors  I  must 
say  that  the  class  represented  by  Dimitri  Ivan'itch 

*  This  custom  has  fortunately  become  now  very  rare;  it  is  still,  however, 
occasionally  practised  in  outlying  districts.  An  incident  of  the  kind  hap- 
pened to  a  friend  of  mine  in  1871.  lie  was  detained  against  his  will  for  two 
whole  days  by  a  man  whom  he  had  never  seen  before,  and  at  last  effected 
his  escape  by  bribing  the  servants  of  his  tyrannical  host. 

280 


LANDED   PROPRIETORS 

is  now  very  small,  and  is  steadily  decreasing  in  num- 
ber. It  was  the  natural  result  of  serfage  and  social 
stagnation  —  of  a  state  of  society  in  which  there 
were  few  legal  and  moral  restraints,  and  few  induce- 
ments to  honourable  activity. 

Among  the  other  landed  proprietors  of  the  district 

one  of  the  best  known  is  Nicolai  Petrovitch  B , 

an  old  military  man  with  the  rank  of  general.  Like 
Ivan  Ivan'itch,  he  belongs  to  the  old  school;  but 
the  two  men  must  be  contrasted  rather  than  com- 
pared. The  difference  in  their  lives  and  characters 
is  reflected  in  their  outward  appearance.  Ivan  Ivan- 
'itch, as  we  know,  is  portly  in  form  and  heavy  in  all 
his  movements,  and  loves  to  loll  in  his  arm-chair 
or  to  loaf  about  the  house  in  a  capacious  dressing- 
gown.  The  General,  on  the  contrary,  is  thin,  wiry, 
and  muscular,  wears  habitually  a  close-buttoned 
military  tunic,  and  always  has  a  stern  expression, 
the  force  of  which  is  considerably  augmented  by  a 
bristly  moustache  resembling  a  shoe-brush.  As  he 
paces  up  and  down  the  room,  knitting  his  brows 
and  gazing  at  the  floor,  he  looks  as  if  he  were  form- 
ing combinations  of  the  first  magnitude;  but  those 
who  know  him  well  are  aware  that  this  is  an  optical 
delusion,  of  which  he  is  himself  to  some  extent  a 
victim.  He  is  quite  innocent  of  deep  thought  and 
concentrated  intellectual  effort.  Though  he  frowns  so 
fiercely  he  is  by  no  means  of  a  naturally  ferocious 
temperament.  Had  he  passed  all  his  life  in  the 
country  he  would  probably  have  been  as  good- 
natured  and  phlegmatic  as  Ivan  Ivan'itch  himself, 

287 


RUSSIA 

but,  unlike  that  worshipper  of  tranquillity,  he  had 
aspired  to  rise  in  the  service,  and  had  adopted  the 
stern,  formal  bearing  which  the  Emperor  Nicholas 
considered  indispensable  in  an  officer.  The  manner 
which  he  had  at  first  put  on  as  part  of  his  uniform 
became  by  the  force  of  habit  almost  a  part  of  his 
nature,  and  at  the  age  of  thirty  he  was  an  officer 
after  the  Iron  Emperor's  own  heart :  a  stern  discipli- 
narian and  uncompromising  formalist,  who  confined 
his  attention  exclusively  to  drill  and  other  military- 
duties.  Thus  he  rose  steadily  by  his  own  merit, 
and  reached  the  goal  of  his  early  ambition  —  the 
rank  of  general.  As  soon  as  this  point  was  reached 
he  determined  to  leave  the  service  and  retire  to  his 
estate.  Many  considerations  urged  him  to  take  this 
step.  He  was  already  sixty  years  of  age,  and  had 
little  prospect  of  further  advancement.  He  enjoyed 
the  title  of  Excellency  which  he  had  long  coveted, 
and  when  he  put  on  his  full  uniform  his  breast  was 
bespangled  with  medals  and  decorations.  Since  the 
death  of  his  father  the  revenues  of  his  estate  had 
been  steadily  decreasing,  and  report  said  that  the 
best  wood  in  his  forest  was  rapidly  disappearing. 
His  wife  had  no  love  for  the  country,  and  would 
have  preferred  to  settle  in  Moscow  or  St.  Peters- 
burg, but  they  found  that  with  their  small  income 
they  could  not  live  in  a  large  town  in  a  style  suitable 
to  their  rank. 

The  General  determined  to  introduce  order  into  his 
estate,  and  became  a  practical  farmer;  but  a  little 
experience  convinced  him  that   his    new  functions 

288 


LANDED   PROPRIETORS 

were  much  more  difficult  than  the  commanding  of 
a  regiment.  He  has  long  since  given  over  the  prac- 
tical management  of  his  estate  to  a  steward,  who  was 
formerly  one  of  his  serfs,  and  he  contents  himself  with 
exercising  what  he  imagines  to  be  an  efficient  control. 
Though  he  wishes  to  do  much,  he  finds  small  scope 
for  his  activity,  and  spends  his  days  in  pretty  much 
the  same  way  as  Ivan  Ivan'itch,  with  this  difference, 
that  he  plays  cards  whenever  he  gets  an  opportunity, 
and  "reads  regularly  the  Russki  Invalid,  the  official 
military  paper.  As  soon  as  he  receives  the  current 
number  of  this  paper  he  sits  down  and  reads  it  con- 
scientiously from  beginning  to  end.  The  part  which 
specially  interests  him  is  the  list  of  promotions,  retire- 
ments, and  Imperial  rewards  for  merit  and  seniority. 
When  he  sees  the  announcement  that  some  old  com- 
rade has  been  made  an  officer  of  his  Majesty's  suite 
or  has  received  a  grand  cordon  he  frowns  a  little 
more  than  usual,  and  is  tempted  to  regret  that  he 
retired  from  the  service.  Had  he  waited  patiently, 
perhaps  a  bit  of  good  fortune  might  have  fallen  like- 
wise to  his  lot.  This  idea  takes  possession  of  him, 
and  during  the  remainder  of  the  day  he  is  more  taci- 
turn than  usual.  His  wife  notices  the  change,  and 
knows  the  reason  of  it,  but  has  too  much  good  sense 
and  tact  to  make  any  allusion  to  the  subject. 

Anna  x\lexandrovna,  so  the  good  lady  is  called, 
is  a  buxom  dame  of  nearly  fifty  years  of  age,  who 
does  not  at  all  resemble  the  wife  of  Ivan  Ivan'itch. 
She  has  been  long  accustomed  to  a  numerous  military 
society,    with   dinner-parties,   dancing,  promenades, 

RUSSIA   1—19  289 


RUSSIA 

card-playing,  and  all  the  other  amusements  of  gar- 
rison life.  For  domestic  concerns  she  has  no  taste. 
Her  knowledge  of  culinary  affairs  is  extremely  vague, 
and  she  has  no  idea  of  how  to  make  preserves,  nalivka, 
and  other  home-made  delicacies,  though  Maria  Pet- 
rovna,  who  is  universally  acknowledged  to  be  a  great 
adept  in  such  matters,  has  proposed  a  hundred  times 
to  give  her  some  choice  recipes.  In  short,  domestic 
affairs  are  a  burden  to  her,  and  she  entrusts  them 
as  far  as  possible  to  the  housekeeper.  Her  young 
children,  too,  are  somewhat  of  an  encumbrance, 
and  accordingly  she  relegates  them  to  the  care  of  the 
nurse  and  the  governess.  Altogether  she  finds  coun- 
try life  very  tiresome,  but,  possessing  that  placid, 
philosophical  temperament  which  seems  to  have 
some  causal  connection  w  ith  corpulence,  she  submits 
without  murmuring,  and  tries  to  lighten  a  little  the 
unavoidable  monotony  by  paying  visits  and  receiv- 
ing visitors.  The  neighbours  within  a  radius  of 
twenty  miles  are,  with  few  exceptions,  more  or  less 
of  the  Ivan  Ivan'itch  and  Maria  Petrovna  type  — 
decidedly  rustic  in  their  manners  and  conceptions; 
but  their  company  is  better  than  absolute  solitude, 
and  they  have  at  least  the  good  quality  of  being 
always  able  and  willing  to  play  cards  for  any  num- 
ber of  hours.  Besides  this,  Anna  Alexandrovna  has 
the  satisfaction  of  feeling  that  amongst  them  she 
is  almost  a  great  personage,  and  unquestionably  an 
authority  in  all  matters  of  taste  and  fashion ;  and  she 
feels  especially  well  disposed  towards  those  of  them 
who  frequently  address  her  as  "Your  Excellency." 

290 


LANDED    PROPRIETORS 

The  chief  festivities  take  place  on  the  "name- 
days"  of  the  General  and  his  spouse  —  that  is  to 
say,  the  days  sacred  to  St.  Nicholas  and  St.  Anna. 
On  these  occasions  all  the  neighbours  come  to  offer 
their  congratulations,  and  remain  to  dinner  as  a 
matter  of  course.  After  dinner  the  older  visitors  sit 
down  to  cards,  and  the  young  people  extemporise 
a  dance.  The  fete  is  specially  successful  when  the 
eldest  son  comes  home  to  take  part  in  it,  and  brings 
one  or  two  of  his  comrades  with  him.  He  has  been 
already  some  years  in  the  army,  and  is  on  the  road 
to  being  a  general  like  his  father.  ^  One  of  the  com- 
rades is  expected  soon  to  offer  his  hand  to  Olga  Niko- 
la'vna,  the  second  daughter,  a  fair-haired,  pale-faced 
young  lady,  who  is  always  in  a  state  of  languor  bor- 
dering on  collapse.  She  and  her  elder  sister,  a  young 
person  of  the  same  temperament,  were  educated  in 
one  of  the  great  "Instituts" — gigantic  boarding- 
schools,  founded  and  kept  up  by  the  Government, 
for  the  daughters  of  those  who  are  supposed  to 
have  deserved  well  of  their  country.  Having  now 
finished  their  education,  they  live  at  home,  bewail- 
ing the  absence  of  "civilised"  society,  and  killing 
time  in  a  harmless,  elegant  way  by  means  of  music, 
needle-work,  and  light  literature. 

At  those  "name-day"  gatherings  one  is  sure  to 
meet  several  interesting  specimens  of  the  old  school. 

•  Generals  are  much  more  common  in  Russia  than  in  other  coimtries.  A 
few  years  ago  there  was  an  old  lady  in  Moscow  who  had  a  family  of  ten  sons, 
all  of  whom  were  generals!  The  rank  may  be  obtained  in  the  civil  as  well 
as  the  military  service. 

291 


RUSSIA 

One  of  the  most  conspicuous  guests  is  a  tall  corpu- 
lent old  man,  in  a  threadbare  frock-coat,  which 
wrinkles  up  about  his  waist.  His  shaggy  eyebrows 
almost  cover  his  small  dull  eyes,  his  heavy  mous- 
tache partially  conceals  a  large  mouth,  strongly  indi- 
cating sensuous  tendencies.  His  hair  is  cut  so  short 
that  it  is  difficult  to  say  what  its  colour  would  be  if 
it  were  allowed  to  grow.  He  always  arrives  in  his 
tarantass  just  in  time  for  the  '*zakuska" — the  appe- 
tising collation  that  is  served  shortly  before  dinner 
—  grunts  out  a  few  congratulations  to  the  host  and 
hostess  and  monosyllabic  greetings  to  his  acquaint- 
ances, eats  a  copious  meal,  and  immediately  after- 
wards places  himself  at  a  card-table,  where  he  sits  in 
silence  so  long  as  he  can  get  any  one  to  play  with  him. 
People  do  not  like,  however,  to  play  with  Andrei 
Vassil'itch,  for  his  society  is  not  agreeable,  and  he 
always  contrives  to  go  home  with  a  well-filled  purse. 
Andrei  Vassil'itch  is  a  noted  man  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood. He  is  the  centre  of  a  whole  cycle  of 
legends,  and  his  name,  it  is  said,  is  often  used  with 
effect  by  nurses  to  frighten  naughty  children.  Thus 
any  one  who  will  take  the  trouble  to  visit  the  dis- 
trict of  X may  still  see  a  legendary  monster  in 

the  flesh.  How  far  the  numerous  stories  told  about 
him  are  true  I  cannot  pretend  to  say,  but  they  are 
certainly  not  without  foundation.  In  his  youth  he 
served  for  some  time  in  the  army,  and  was  cele- 
brated, even  in  an  age  when  martinets  had  always 
a  good  chance  of  promotion,  for  his  brutality  to  his 
subordinates.     His  career  was  cut  short,  however, 

292 


LANDED    PROPRIETORS 

when  he  had  only  the  rank  of  captain.  Having  com- 
promised himself  in  some  way,  he  found  it  advisable 
to  send  in  his  resignation  and  retire  to  his  estate. 
Here  he  organised  his  house  on  Mahometan  rather 
than  on  Christian  principles,  and  ruled  his  servants 
and  peasants  as  he  had  been  accustomed  to  rule 
his  soldiers  —  using  corporal  punishment  in  merci- 
less fashion.  His  wife  did  not  venture  to  protest 
against  the  Mahometan  arrangements,  and  any 
peasant  who  stood  in  the  way  of  their  realisation 
was  at  once  given  as  a  recruit,  or  transported  to 
Siberia,  in  accordance  with  his  master's  demand.^ 
At  last  his  tyranny  and  extortion  drove  his  serfs  to 
revolt.  One  night  his  house  was  surrounded  and 
set  on  fire,  but  he  contrived  to  escape  the  fate  that 
was  prepared  for  him,  and  caused  all  who  had  taken 
part  in  the  revolt  to  be  mercilessly  punished.  This 
was  a  severe  lesson,  but  it  had  no  effect  upon  him. 
Taking  precautions  against  a  similar  surprise,  he 
continued  to  tyrannise  and  extort  as  before,  until  in 
1861  the  serfs  w^ere  emancipated,  and  his  authority 
came  to  an  end. 

A  very  different  sort  of  man  is  Pavel  Trophim'itch, 
who  likewise  comes  regularly  to  pay  his  respects 
and  present  his  congratulations  to  the  General 
and  "  Gheneralsha "  (the  female  form  of  the  word 
General).     It   is  pleasant   to  turn   from  the  hard, 

*  When  a  proprietor  considered  any  of  his  serfs  unruly  he  could,  according 
to  law,  have  them  transported  to  Siberia  without  trial,  on  condition  of  pay- 
ing the  expenses  of  transport.  Arrived  at  their  destination,  they  received 
land,  and  lived  as  free  colonists,  with  the  single  restriction  that  they  were 
not  allowed  to  leave  the  locality  where  they  were  settled. 

293 


RUSSIA 

wrinkled,  morose  features  of  the  legendary  monster 
and  look  at  the  soft,  smooth,  jovial  face  of  this 
man,  who  has  always  been  accustomed  to  look 
at  the  bright  side  of  things,  till  his  face  has  caught 
something  of  their  brightness.  "A  good,  jovial, 
honest  face!"  you  involuntarily  exclaim  as  you  look 
at  him.  True;  but  you  must  beware  of  drawing 
from  it  hasty  conclusions  as  to  the  character  of  the 
owner.  Jovial  he  certainly  is,  for  few  men  are  more 
capable  of  making  and  enjoying  mirth.  Good  he 
may  be  also  called,  if  the  word  be  taken  in  the  sense 
of  good-natured,  for  he  never  takes  offence,  and  is 
always  ready  to  do  a  kindly  action  if  it  does  not 
cost  him  any  trouble.  But  as  to  his  honesty,  that 
requires  some  qualification.  Wliolly  untarnished  his 
reputation  certainly  cannot  be,  for  he  was  for  many 
years  a  judge  in  the  District  Court,  and  the  court  to 
which  he  belonged  was  no  better  than  other  courts 
of  the  same  kind.  To  be  a  judge  in  those  courts  — • 
which  were  abolished  about  ten  years  ago  —  and  to 
be  at  the  same  time  an  honest  man,  required  most 
unusual  moral  stamina.  Pavel  Trophim'itch  was 
not  a  Cato,  and  accordingly  succumbed.  He  had 
never  studied  law,  and  made  no  pretensions  to  the 
possession  of  great  legal  knowledge.  To  all  who 
would  listen  to  him  he  declared  openly  that  he  knew 
much  more  about  pointers  and  setters  than  about 
legal  formalities.  But  his  estate  was  very  small,  and 
he  could  not  afford  to  give  up  his  appointment. 
Though  the  nominal  salary  was  extremely  modest, 
the  actual  revenue  was  considerable,  for  in  those 

294 


LANDED   PROPRIETORS 

days  no  sane  man  attempted  to  carry  on  a  suit  with- 
out greasing  the  palms  of  the  oflScials.  Both  parties 
paid  the  secretary,  whose  duty  it  was  to  get  up  the 
case  and  present  it  to  the  judges,  and  the  secre- 
tary gave  a  share  of  these  earnings  to  his  superiors. 
Pavel  Trophim'itch  was  by  no  means  a  judge  of  the 
worst  kind.  He  had  been  known  to  protect  widows 
and  orphans  against  those  who  wished  to  despoil 
them,  and  no  amount  of  money  from  the  other  party 
would  induce  him  to  give  an  unjust  decision  against 
a  friend  who  had  privately  explained  the  case  to 
him;  but  when  he  knew  nothing  of  the  case  or  of 
the  parties  he  readily  signed  the  decision  prepared 
by  the  secretary,  and  quietly  pocketed  the  proceeds, 
without  feeling  any  very  disagreeable  twinges  of  con- 
science. All  judges,  he  knew,  did  likewise,  and  he 
had  no  pretension  to  being  better  than  his  fellows. 

When  Pavel  Trophim'itch  plays  cards  at  the 
General's  house  or  elsewhere,  a  small,  awkward, 
clean-shaven  man,  with  dark  eyes  and  a  Tartar  cast 
of  countenance,  may  generally  be   seen   sitting  at 

the  same  table.     That  is  Alexei  Petrovitch  T . 

Whether  he  really  has  any  Tartar  blood  in  him  it 
is  impossible  to  say,  but  certainly  his  ancestors  for 
one  or  two  generations  were  all  good  orthodox  Chris- 
tians. His  father  was  a  poor  military  surgeon  in  a 
marching  regiment,  and  he  himself  became  at  an 
early  age  a  scribe  in  one  of  the  bureaux  of  the  district 
town.  He  was  then  very  poor,  and  had  great  diflB- 
culty  in  supporting  life  on  the  miserable  pittance 
which  he  received  as  a  salary,  but  he  was  a  sharp, 

295 


RUSSIA 

clever  youth,  and  soon  discovered  that  even  a  scribe 
had  a  great  many  opportunities  of  extorting  money 
from  the  ignorant  pubHc.  These  opportunities  he 
used  with  great  abihty,  and  became  known  as  one 
of  the  most  accompHshed  bribe-takers  (vzyatotch- 
niki)  in  the  district.  His  position,  however,  was  so 
very  subordinate  that  he  would  never  have  become 
rich  had  he  not  fallen  upon  a  very  ingenious  expe- 
dient which  completely  succeeded.  Hearing  that  a 
small  proprietor,  who  had  an  only  daughter,  had 
come  to  live  in  the  town  for  a  few  weeks,  he  took  a 
room  in  the  inn  where  the  new-comers  lived,  and 
when  he  had  made  their  acquaintance  he  fell  dan- 
gerously ill.  Feeling  his  last  hours  approaching,  he 
sent  for  a  priest,  confided  to  him  that  he  had  amassed 
a  large  fortune,  and  requested  that  a  will  should  be 
drawn  up.  In  the  will  he  bequeathed  large  sums  to 
all  his  relations,  and  a  considerable  sum  to  the 
parish  church.  The  whole  affair  was  to  be  kept  a 
secret  till  after  his  death,  but  his  neighbour  —  the 
old  gentleman  with  the  daughter  —  was  called  in  to 
act  as  a  witness.  When  all  this  had  been  done  he 
did  not  die,  but  rapidly  recovered,  and  now  induced 
the  old  gentleman  to  whom  he  had  confided  his  secret 
to  grant  him  his  daughter's  hand.  The  daughter 
had  no  objections  to  marry  a  man  possessed  of 
such  wealth,  and  the  marriage  was  duly  celebrated. 
Shortly  after  this  the  father  died  —  without  discov- 
ering, it  is  to  be  hoped,  the  hoax  that  had  been 
perpetrated  —  and  Alcxei  Petrovitch  became  virtual 
possessor  of  a  very  comfortable  little  estate.     With 

29G 


LANDED    PROPRIETORS 

the  change  in  his  fortunes  he  completely  changed 
his  principles,  or  at  least  his  practice.  In  all  his 
dealings  he  is  now  strictly  honest.  He  lends  money, 
it  is  true,  at  from  ten  to  fifteen  per  cent.,  but  that 
is  considered  in  these  parts  not  a  very  exorbitant 
rate  of  interest,  and  all  admit  that  he  is  never 
unnecessarily  hard  upon  his  creditors.  In  the  elec- 
tive local  administration  he  plays  a  prominent  part. 
Though  he  rarely  speaks  in  the  Zemstvo  assembly, 
he  is  a  most  useful  man  in  committees,  and  always 
distinguishes  himself  by  his  sound  common  sense 
and  his  wide  practical  knowledge. 


297 


CHAPTER  XIV 

PROPRIETORS  OF  THE  MODERN  SCHOOL 

IN  the  district  in  which  Nikolai  Petrovitch  lives 
the  resident  landed  proprietors  are,  for  the  most 
part,  as  I  have  said,  men  of  the  old  school, 
decidedly  rustic  in  their  manners  and  conceptions. 
But  there  are  a  few  exceptions,  and  among  the 
most  conspicuous  of  these  is  Victor  Alexandr'itch 

L .     As  we  approach  his  house  we  can  at  once 

perceive  that  he  differs  from  the  majority  of  his 
neighbours.  The  gate  is  painted  and  moves  easily 
on  its  hinges,  the  fence  is  in  good  repair,  the  short 
avenue  leading  up  to  the  front  door  is  well  kept, 
and  in  the  garden  we  can  perceive  at  a  glance  that 
more  attention  is  paid  to  flowers  than  to  vege- 
tables. The  house  is  of  wood,  and  not  large,  but  it 
has  some  architectural  pretensions  in  the  form  of 
a  great,  pseudo-Doric  wooden  portico  that  covers 
three-fourths  of  the  fagade.  In  the  interior  we 
remark  everywhere  the  influence  of  Western  civili- 
sation. Victor  Alexandr'itch  is  by  no  means  richer 
than  Ivan  Ivan'itch,  but  his  rooms  are  much  more 
luxuriously  furnished.  The  furniture  is  of  a  lighter 
model,  more  comfortable,  and  in  a  much  better 
state  of  preservation.     Instead  of  the  bare,  scantily 

298 


MODERN   PROPRIETORS 

furnished  sitting-room,  with  the  old-fashioned  barrel- 
organ  which  played  only  six  airs,  we  find  an  elegant 
drawing-room,  with  a  piano  by  one  of  the  most 
approved  makers,  and  numerous  articles  of  foreign 
manufacture,  comprising  a  small  buhl  table  and 
two  bits  of  genuine  old  wedge  wood.  The  ser- 
vants are  clean,  and  dressed  in  European  costume. 
The  master,  too,  is  very  different  in  appearance. 
He  pays  great  attention  to  his  toilette,  wearing  a 
dressing-gown  only  in  the  early  morning,  and  a 
fashionable  lounging  coat  during  the  rest  of  the  day. 
The  Turkish  pipes  which  his  grandfather  loved 
he  holds  in  abhorrence,  and  habitually  smokes  cig- 
arettes. With  his  wife  and  daughters  he  always 
speaks  French,  and  calls  them  by  French  or  Eng- 
lish names.  But  the  part  of  the  house  which  most 
strikingly  illustrates  the  difference  between  the  old 
and  new  styles  is  "le  cabinet  de  monsieur."  In 
the  cabinet  of  Ivan  Ivan'itch  the  furniture  consists 
of  a  broad  sofa  which  serves  as  a  bed,  a  few  deal 
chairs,  a  long  range  of  pipes,  and  a  clumsy  deal 
table,  on  which  are  generally  to  be  found  a  bundle 
of  greasy  papers,  an  old  chipped  ink-bottle,  a  pen, 
and  a  calendar.  The  cabinet  of  Victor  Alexandr'itch 
has  an  entirely  different  appearance.  It  is  small, 
but  at  once  comfortable  and  elegant.  The  prin- 
cipal objects  which  it  contains  are  a  library-table, 
with  ink-stand,  presse-papier,  paper-cutters,  and 
other  articles  in  keeping,  and  in  the  opposite  corner 
a  large  book-case.  The  collection  of  books  is  re- 
markable, not  from  the  number  of  volumes  or  the 

299 


RUSSIA 

presence  of  rare  editions,  but  from  the  variety  of 
the  subjects.  History,  art,  fiction,  the  drama, 
political  economy,  and  agriculture  are  represented 
in  about  equal  proportions.  Some  of  the  works  are 
in  Russian,  others  in  German,  a  large  number  in 
French,  and  a  few  in  Italian.  The  collection  illus- 
trates the  former  life  and  present  occupations  of 
the  owner. 

The  father  of  Victor  Alexandr'itch  was  a  landed 
proprietor,  who  had  made  a  successful  career  in  the 
civil  service,  and  desired  that  his  son  should  follow 
the  same  profession.  For  this  purpose  Victor  was 
first  carefully  trained  at  home,  and  then  sent  to  the 
University  of  Moscow,  where  he  spent  four  years  as 
a  student  of  law.  From  the  University  he  passed  to 
the  Ministry  of  the  Interior  in  St.  Petersburg,  but 
he  found  the  monotonous  routine  of  official  life  not 
at  all  suited  to  his  taste,  and  very  soon  sent  in 
his  resignation.  The  death  of  his  father  had  made 
him  proprietor  of  an  estate,  and  thither  he  retired, 
hoping  to  find  there  plenty  of  occupation  more  con- 
genial than  the  writing  of  official  papers. 

At  the  University  of  Moscow  he  had  attended 
the  lectures  of  the  famous  Granofski,  and  had  got 
through  a  large  amount  of  desultory  reading.  The 
chief  result  of  his  studies  was  the  acquisition  of 
many  ill-digested  general  principles,  and  certain 
vague,  generous,  humanitarian  aspirations.  With 
this  intellectual  capital  he  hoped  to  lead  a  useful 
life  in  the  country.  When  he  had  repaired  and 
furnished  the  house  he  set  himself  to  improve  the 

300 


MODERN   PROPRIETORS 

estate.  In  the  course  of  his  promiscuous  reading 
he  had  stumbled  on  some  descriptions  of  English 
and  Tuscan  agriculture,  and  had  there  learned 
what  wonders  might  be  effected  by  a  rational  sys- 
tem of  farming.  Why  should  not  Russia  follow 
the  example  of  England  and  Tuscany?  By  proper 
drainage,  plentiful  manure,  good  ploughs,  and  the 
cultivation  of  artificial  grasses,  the  production 
might  be  multiplied  tenfold;  and  by  the  introduc- 
tion of  agricultural  machines  the  manual  labour 
might  be  greatly  diminished.  All  this  seemed  simple 
as  a  sum  in  arithmetic,  and  Victor  Alexandr'itch, 
"more  scholarium  rei  familiaris  ignarus,"  without 
a  moment's  hesitation  expended  his  ready  money 
in  procuring  from  England  a  threshing-machine, 
ploughs,  harrows,  and  other  implements  of  the 
newest  model. 

The  arrival  of  these  was  an  event  that  was  long 
remembered.  The  peasants  examined  them  with 
attention,  not  unmixed  with  wonder,  but  said  noth- 
ing. When  the  master  explained  to  them  the  ad- 
vantages of  the  new  instruments,  they  still  remained 
silent.  Only  one  old  man,  gazing  at  the  threshing- 
machine,  remarked,  in  an  audible  "aside,"  *'A  cun- 
ning people  these  Germans!"  ^  On  being  asked  for 
their  opinion,  they  replied  vaguely,  "How  should  we 
know.'^  It  ought  to  be  so."  But  when  their  master 
had  retired,  and  was  explaining  to  his  wife  and  the 

^  The  Russian  peasant  comprehends  all  the  inhabitants  of  Western  Europe 
under  the  term  "  Nyemtsi,"  which  in  the  language  of  the  educated  desig- 
nates only  Germans.  The  rest  of  humanity  is  composed  of  Pravoslavniye 
(Greek  Orthodox),  Busurmanye  (Mahometans),  and  Poliacki  (Poles). 

301 


RUSSIA 

French  governess  that  the  chief  obstacle  to  progress 
in  Russia  was  the  apathetic  indolence  and  conser- 
vative spirit  of  the  peasantry,  they  expressed  their 
opinions  more  freely.  "These  may  be  all  very  well 
for  the  Germans,  but  they  won't  do  for  us.  How 
are  our  little  horses  to  drag  these  big  ploughs  and 
harrows?  And  as  for  that  (the  threshing-machine), 
it's  of  no  use."  Further  examination  and  reflection 
confirmed  this  first  impression,  and  it  was  unani- 
mously decided  that  no  good  would  come  of  the 
new-fangled  inventions. 

These  apprehensions  proved  to  be  only  too  well 
founded.  The  ploughs  and  harrows  were  much  too 
heavy  for  the  peasants'  small  horses,  and  the  thresh- 
ing-machine broke  down  at  the  first  attempt  to 
use  it.  For  the  purchase  of  lighter  implements  or 
stronger  horses  there  was  no  ready  money,  and  for 
the  repairing  of  the  threshing-machine  there  was 
not  an  engineer  within  a  radius  of  a  hundred  and 
fifty  miles.  The  experiment  was,  in  short,  a  com- 
plete failure,  and  the  new  purchases  were  put  away 
out  of  sight. 

For  some  weeks  after  this  incident  Victor  Alex- 
andr'itch  felt  very  despondent,  and  spoke  more  than 
usual  about  the  apathy  and  stupidity  of  the  peas- 
antry. His  faith  in  infallible  science  was  somewhat 
shaken,  and  his  benevolent  aspirations  were  for  a 
time  laid  aside.  But  this  eclipse  of  faith  was  not  of 
long  duration.  Gradually  he  recovered  his  normal 
condition,  and  began  to  form  new  schemes.  From 
the  study  of  certain  works  on  political   economy 

302 


MODERN    PROPRIETORS 

he  learned  that  the  system  of  communal  property 
was  ruinous  to  the  fertility  of  the  soil,  and  that 
free  labour  was  always  more  productive  than  serf- 
age. By  the  light  of  these  principles  he  discovered 
why  the  peasantry  in  Russia  were  so  poor,  and  by 
what  means  their  condition  could  be  ameliorated. 
The  communal  land  should  be  divided  into  family 
lots,  and  the  serfs,  instead  of  being  forced  to  work 
for  the  proprietor,  should  pay  a  yearly  sum  as 
rent.  The  advantages  of  this  change  he  perceived 
clearly  — as  clearly  as  he  had  formerly  perceived 
the  advantages  of  English  agricultural  implements 
—  and  he  determined  to  make  the  experiment  on 
his  own  estate. 

His  first  step  was  to  call  together  the  more  in- 
telligent and  influential  of  his  serfs,  and  to  explain 
to  them  his  project;  but  his  efforts  at  explanation 
were  eminently  unsuccessful.     Even  with  regard  to 
ordinary  current  affairs  he  could  not  express  him- 
self in  that  simple,   homely  language  with  which 
alone  the  peasants  are  familiar,  and  when  he  spoke 
on  abstract  subjects  he  naturally  became  quite  un- 
intelligible to  his  uneducated  audience.     The  serfs 
listened  attentively,   but  understood   nothing.     He 
might  as  well  have  spoken  to  them,  as  he  often  did 
in  another  kind  of  society,  about  the  comparative 
excellence  of  Italian  and  German  music.     At  a  sec- 
ond attempt  he  was  rather  more  successful.     The 
peasants  came  to  understand  that  what  he  wished 
was  to  break  up  the  "Mir,"  or  rural  commune,  and 
to  put  them  all  "on  Obrok"  — that  is  to  say,  make 

303 


RUSSIA 

them  pay  a  yearly  sum  instead  of  giving  him  a 
certain  amount  of  agricultural  labour.  Much  to  his 
astonishment,  his  scheme  did  not  meet  with  any 
sympathy.  As  to  being  put  "on  Obrok,"  the  serfs 
did  not  much  object,  though  they  preferred  to  re- 
main as  they  were;  but  his  proposal  to  break  up 
the  "Mir"  fairly  astonished  and  bewildered  them. 
They  regarded  it  as  a  sea-captain  might  regard  the 
proposal  of  a  scientific  wiseacre  to  knock  a  hole  in 
the  ship's  bottom  in  order  to  make  her  sail  faster. 
Though  they  did  not  say  much,  he  was  intelligent 
enough  to  see  that  they  would  offer  a  strenuous, 
passive  opposition,  and  as  he  did  not  wish  to  act 
tyrannically,  he  let  the  matter  drop.  Thus  a  sec- 
ond benevolent  scheme  was  shipwrecked.  Many 
other  schemes  had  a  similar  fate,  and  Victor  Alex- 
andr'itch  began  to  perceive  that  it  was  very  diffi- 
cult to  do  good  in  this  world,  especially  when  the 
persons  to  be  benefited  were  Russian  peasants. 

In  reality  the  fault  lay  less  with  the  serfs  than 
with  their  master.  Victor  Alexandr'itch  was  by  no 
means  a  stupid  man.  On  the  contrary,  he  had  more 
than  average  talents.  Few  men  were  more  capable 
of  grasping  a  new  idea  and  forming  a  scheme  for  its 
realisation,  and  few  men  could  play  more  dexter- 
ously with  abstract  principles.  What  he  wanted 
was  the  power  of  dealing  with  concrete  facts.  The 
principles  which  he  had  acquired  from  University 
lectures  and  desultory  reading  were  far  too  vague 
and  abstract  for  practical  use.  He  had  studied  ab- 
stract science  without  gaining  any  technical  knowl- 

304 


MODERN    PROPRIETORS 

edge  of  details,  and  consequently  when  he  stood 
face  to  face  with  real  life  he  was  like  a  student  who, 
having  studied  mechanics  in  text-books,  is  suddenly- 
placed  in  a  workshop  and  ordered  to  construct  a 
machine.  Only  there  was  one  difference:  Victor 
Alexandr'itch  was  not  ordered  to  do  anything.  Vol- 
untarily, without  any  apparent  necessity,  he  set 
himself  to  work  with  tools  which  he  could  not 
handle.  It  was  this  that  chiefly  puzzled  the  peas- 
ants. Why  should  he  trouble  himself  with  these 
new  schemes,  when  he  might  live  comfortably  as  he 
was?  In  some  of  his  projects  they  could  detect  a 
desire  to  increase  the  revenue,  but  in  others  they 
could  discover  no  such  motive.  In  these  latter  they 
attributed  his  conduct  to  pure  caprice,  and  put  it  into 
the  same  category  as  those  mad  pranks  in  which  pro- 
prietors of  jovial  humour  sometimes  indulged. 

In  the  last  years  of  serfage  there  were  a  good  many 
landed  proprietors  like  Victor  Alexandr'itch  — men 
who  wished  to  do  something  beneficent,  and  did  not 
know  how  to  do  it.  When  serfage  was  being  abol- 
ished the  majority  of  these  men  took  an  active  part 
in  the  great  work  and  rendered  valuable  service  to 
their  country.  Victor  Alexandr'itch  acted  otherwise. 
At  first  he  sympathised  warmly  with  the  proposed 
emancipation  and  wrote  several  articles  on  the  advan- 
tages of  free  labour,  but  when  the  Government  took 
the  matter  into  its  own  hands  he  declared  that  the 
officials  had  deceived  and  slighted  the  noblesse,  and 
he  went  over  to  the  opposition.  Before  the  Impe- 
rial Edict  was  signed  he  went  abroad,  and  travelled 

RUSSIA    1  —  20  305 


RUSSIA 

for  three  years  in  Germany,  France,  and  Italy. 
Shortly  after  his  return  he  married  a  pretty,  accom- 
plished young  lady,  the  daughter  of  an  eminent 
official  in  St.  Petersburg,  and  since  that  time  he  has 
lived  in  his  country-house. 

Though  a  man  of  education  and  culture,  Victor 
Alexandr'itch  spends  his  time  in  almost  as  indolent 
a  way  as  the  men  of  the  old  school.  He  rises  some- 
what later,  and  instead  of  sitting  by  the  open  window 
and  gazing  into  the  courtyard,  he  turns  over  the  pages 
of  a  book  or  periodical.  Instead  of  dining  at  midday 
and  supping  at  nine  o'clock,  he  takes  dejeuner  at 
twelve  and  dines  at  five.  He  spends  less  time  in  sit- 
ting in  the  verandah  and  pacing  up  and  down  with  his 
hands  behind  his  back,  for  he  can  vary  the  operation 
of  time-killing  by  occasionally  writing  a  letter,  or 
by  standing  behind  his  wife  at  the  piano  while  she 
plays  selections  from  Mozart  and  Beethoven.  But 
these  peculiarities  are  merely  variations  in  detail. 
If  there  is  any  essential  difference  between  the  lives 
of  Victor  Alexandr'itch  and  of  Ivan  Ivan'itch,  it  is 
in  the  fact  that  the  former  never  goes  out  into  the 
fields  to  see  how  the  work  is  done,  and  never  troubles 
himself  with  the  state  of  the  weather,  the  condition 
of  the  crops,  and  cognate  subjects.  He  leaves  the 
management  of  his  estate  entirely  to  his  steward, 
and  refers  to  that  personage  all  peasants  who  come 
to  him  with  complaints  or  petitions.  Though  he 
takes  a  deep  interest  in  the  peasant  as  an  impersonal, 
abstract  entity,  and  loves  to  contemplate  concrete 
examples  of  the  genus  in  the  works  of  certain  popular 

306 


MODERN   PROPRIETORS 

authors,  he  does  not  hke  to  have  any  direct  relations 
with  peasants  in  the  flesh.  If  he  has  to  speak  with 
them  he  always  feels  awkward,  and  suffers  from  the 
odour  of  their  sheep-skins.  Ivan  Ivan 'itch  is  ever 
ready  to  talk  with  the  peasants,  and  give  them  sound, 
practical  advice,  or  severe  admonitions;  and  in  the 
old  times  he  was  apt,  in  moments  of  irritation,  to 
supplement  his  admonitions  by  a  free  use  of  his  fists. 
Victor  Alexandr'itch,  on  the  contrary,  never  could 
give  any  advice  except  vague  common-place,  and 
as  to  using  his  fist,  he  would  have  shrunk  from  that, 
not  only  from  respect  to  humanitarian  principles, 
but  also  from  motives  which  belong  to  the  region 
of  aesthetic  sensitiveness. 

This  difference  between  the  two  men  has  an  im- 
portant influence  on  their  pecuniary  affairs.  The 
stewards  of  both  steal  from  their  masters,  but  that 
of  Ivan  Ivan'itch  steals  with  difficulty,  and  to  a  very 
limited  extent,  whereas  that  of  Victor  Alexandr'itch 
steals  regularly  and  methodically,  and  counts  his 
gains,  not  by  kopeks,  but  by  roubles.  Though  the 
two  estates  are  of  about  the  same  size  and  value,  they 
give  a  very  different  revenue.  The  rough,  practical 
man  has  a  much  larger  income  than  his  elegant,  well- 
educated  neighbour,  and  at  the  same  time  spends 
very  much  less.  The  consequences  of  this,  if  not  at 
present  visible,  must  soon  become  painfully  appar- 
ent. Ivan  Ivan'itch  will  doubtless  leave  to  his  chil- 
dren an  unencumbered  estate  and  a  certain  amount 
of  capital.  The  children  of  Victor  Alexandr'itch 
have  a  different  prospect.    He  has  already  begun  to 

307 


RUSSIA 

mortgage  his  property  and  to  cut  down  the  timber, 
and  he  always  finds  a  deficit  at  the  end  of  the 
year.  What  will  become  of  his  wife  and  children 
when  the  estate  comes  to  be  sold  for  payment  of  the 
mortgage,  it  is  difficult  to  predict.  He  thinks  very 
little  of  that  eventuality,  and  when  his  thoughts 
happen  to  wander  in  that  direction,  he  consoles 
himself  with  the  thought  that  before  the  crash  comes 
he  will  have  inherited  a  fortune  from  a  rich  uncle 
who  has  no  children.  He  knows  very  well  —  or  at 
least  might  know,  if  he  took  the  trouble  to  think  — 
that  this  calculation  is  founded  on  mere  possibilities. 
The  uncle  may  still  marry,  and  have  children,  or 
he  may  choose  some  other  nephew  as  his  heir,  or  he 
may  simply  live  on  and  enjoy  his  fortune  for  thirty 
years  to  come.  The  chances,  therefore,  are  very 
uncertain;  but  Victor  Alexandr'itch,  like  other  im- 
provident people,  likes  to  think  that  there  must  be 
somewhere  behind  the  scenes  a  beneficent  Deus  ex 
machina,  that  will  doubtless  appear  at  the  proper 
moment,  and  miraculously  rescue  him  from  the 
natural  consequences  of  his  folly. 

The  proprietors  of  the  old  school  lead  the  same 
uniform,  monotonous  life  year  after  year,  with  very 
little  variation.  Victor  Alexandr'itch,  on  the  con- 
trary, feels  the  need  of  a  periodical  return  to  "civil- 
ised society,"  and  accordingly  spends  a  few  weeks 
every  winter  in  St.  Petersburg.  During  the  summer 
months  he  has  the  society  of  his  brother  —  un  homme 
tout-a-fait  civilise  —  who  possesses  an  estate  a  few 
miles  off. 

308 


MODERN   PROPRIETORS 

This  brother,  Vladimir  Alexandr'itch,  was  edu- 
cated in  the  School  of  Law  in  St.  Petersburg,  and 
has  since  risen  rapidly  in  the  service.  He  holds 
now  a  prominent  position  in  one  of  the  ministries 
and  has  the  honorary  court  title  of  "Chambellan 
de  sa  Majeste."  He  is  a  marked  man  in  the  higher 
circles  of  the  administration,  and  will,  it  is  thought, 
some  day  become  minister.  Though  an  adherent 
of  enlightened  views,  and  a  professed  "Liberal," 
he  contrives  to  keep  on  very  good  terms  with  those 
who  imagine  themselves  to  be  "Conservatives." 
In  this  he  is  assisted  by  his  soft,  oily  manner.  If 
you  express  an  opinion  to  him  he  will  always  begin 
by  telling  you  that  you  are  quite  right;  and  if  he 
ends  by  showing  you  that  you  are  quite  wrong,  he 
will  at  least  make  you  feel  that  your  error  is  not  only 
excusable,  but  in  some  way  highly  creditable  to  your 
intellectual  acuteness  or  goodness  of  heart.  In  spite 
of  his  liberalism  he  is  a  staunch  monarchist,  and  con- 
siders that  the  time  has  not  yet  come  for  the  Emperor 
to  grant  a  constitution.  He  recognises  that  the  pres- 
ent order  of  things  has  its  defects,  but  thinks  that, 
on  the  whole,  it  acts  very  well,  and  would  act  much 
better  if  certain  high  officials  were  removed,  and 
more  energetic  men  put  in  their  places.  Like  all 
genuine  St.  Petersburg  Tchinovniks  (officials),  he 
has  great  faith  in  the  miraculous  power  of  Imperial 
ukases  and  ministerial  circulars,  and  believes  that 
national  progress  consists  in  multiplying  these  docu- 
ments, and  centralising  the  administration,  so  as  to 
give  them  more  effect.     As  a  supplementary  means 

309 


RUSSIA 

of  progress  he  highly  approves  of  aesthetic  culture, 
and  he  can  speak  with  some  eloquence  of  the  human- 
ising influence  of  the  fine  arts.  For  his  own  part 
he  is  well  acquainted  with  French  and  English  clas- 
sics, and  particularly  admires  Macaulay,  whom  he 
declares  to  have  been  not  only  a  great  writer,  but 
also  a  great  statesman.  Among  writers  of  fiction 
he  gives  the  palm  to  George  Eliot,  and  speaks  of 
the  novelists  of  his  own  country,  and,  indeed,  of 
Russian  literature  as  a  whole,  in  the  most  dispar- 
aging terms. 

A  very  different  estimate  of  Russian  literature 

is    held    by  Alexander   Ivan'itch   N ,   formerly 

arbiter  in  peasant  affairs,  and  now  justice  of  the 
peace.  Discussions  on  this  subject  often  take  place 
between  the  two.  The  admirer  of  Macaulay  declares 
that  Russia  has,  properly  speaking,  no  literature 
whatever,  and  that  the  works  which  bear  the  names 
of  Russian  authors  are  nothing  but  a  feeble  echo  of 
the  literature  of  Western  Europe.  **  Imitators,"  he 
is  wont  to  say,  "skilful  imitators,  we  have  produced 
in  abundance.  But  where  is  there  a  man  of  origi- 
nal genius?  Wliat  is  our  famous  poet  Zhukofski? 
A  translator.  What  is  Pushkin.'*  A  clever  pupil 
of  the  romantic  school.  What  is  Lermontof.^*  A 
feeble  imitator  of  Byron.     What  is  Gogol.'^" 

At  this  point  Alexander  Ivan'itch  invariably  inter- 
venes. He  is  ready  to  sacrifice  all  the  pseudo-classic 
and  romantic  poetry,  and,  in  fact,  the  whole  of  Rus- 
sian literature  anterior  to  about  the  year  1840,  but 
he  will  not  allow  anything  disrespectful  to  be  said 

310 


MODERN   PROPRIETORS 

of  Gogol,  who  about  that  time  founded  the  Russian 
reaHstic  school.  "Gogol,"  he  holds,  "was  a  great 
and  original  genius.  Gogol  not  only  created  a  new 
kind  of  literature;  he  at  the  same  time  transformed 
the  reading  public,  and  inaugurated  a  new  era  in 
the  intellectual  development  of  the  nation.  By  his 
humorous,  satirical  sketches  he  swept  away  the  meta- 
physical dreaming  and  foolish  romantic  affectation 
then  in  fashion,  and  taught  men  to  see  their  country 
as  it  was,  in  all  its  hideous  ugliness.  With  his  help 
the  young  generation  perceived  the  rottenness  of 
the  administration,  and  the  meanness,  stupidity, 
dishonesty,  and  worthlessness  of  the  landed  pro- 
prietors, whom  he  made  the  special  butt  of  his  ridi- 
cule. The  recognition  of  defects  produced  a  desire 
for  reform.  From  laughing  at  the  proprietors  there 
was  but  one  step  to  despising  them,  and  when  we 
learned  to  despise  the  proprietors  w^e  naturally  came 
to  sympathise  with  the  serfs.  Thus  the  emancipa- 
tion was  prepared  by  the  literature;  and  when  the 
great  question  had  to  be  solved,  it  was  the  literature 
that  discovered  a  satisfactory  solution." 

This  is  a  subject  on  which  Alexander  Ivan 'itch 
feels  very  strongly,  and  on  which  he  always  speaks 
with  warmth.  He  knows  a  good  deal  regarding  the 
intellectual  movement  which  began  about  1840,  and 
culminated  in  the  great  reforms  of  the  present 
reign,  because  he  lived  in  it  and  took  a  certain  active 
part  in  it.  He  can  dimly  remember  the  sensation 
caused  by  the  publication  of  Gogol's  famous  de- 
scription of  Russian  provincial  life.     He  can  remem- 

311 


RUSSIA 

ber  how,  a  few  years  later,  he  entered  the  Univer- 
sity of  Moscow,  and  attended  the  brilhant  historical 
lectures  of  Granofski.  At  that  time  the  literary 
society  of  Moscow  was  divided  into  two  hostile 
camps  —  the  Slavophils  and  the  Occidentalists.  The 
former  wished  to  develop  an  independent  national 
culture,  on  the  foundation  of  popular  conceptions 
and  Greek  Orthodoxy,  whilst  the  latter  strove  to 
adopt  and  assimilate  the  intellectual  treasures  of 
Western  Europe.  His  sympathies  were  with  the 
latter  party,  and  he  looked  on  its  leader  Belinski 
as  the  greatest  man  of  the  time.  He  troubled  him- 
self very  little  with  serious  academic  work,  but  he 
read  with  intense  interest  all  the  leading  periodicals, 
and  gradually  arrived  at  the  conviction  that  art 
should  not  be  cultivated  for  its  own  sake,  but  should 
be  made  subservient  to  social  progress.  This  belief 
was  confirmed  by  a  perusal  of  some  of  George  Sand's 
earlier  works,  which  were  for  him  a  kind  of  rev- 
elation. Social  questions  engrossed  his  thoughts, 
and  all  other  subjects  seemed  puny  by  comparison. 
Then  came  in  1848  the  political  disturbances  in 
Western  Europe  —  a  time  of  wild  hopes  and  bound- 
less aspirations,  followed  by  a  period  of  violent  re- 
action, during  which  all  reference  to  political  and 
social  questions  was  rigorously  prohibited  by  the 
Press  censure.  This  period  Alexander  Ivan'itch  spent 
in  the  country,  managing  his  estate  and  waiting 
patiently  for  the  advent  of  a  brighter  day.  And 
when  this  brighter  day  dawned,  after  the  Crimean 
War,  he  threw  himself  enthusiastically  into  the  new 

312 


MODERN   PROPRIETORS 

movement  and  advocated  in  various  periodicals  the 
abolition  of  serfage.  The  Emancipation  Manifest 
was  signed  in  1861,  and  shortly  afterwards  he  was 
appointed  one  of  the  "Arbiters  of  the  Peace"  in  the 
district  where  he  lived.  The  duty  of  these  arbiters 
was  to  put  the  Emancipation  Law  into  execution, 
and  to  act  as  mediators  between  the  landed  pro- 
prietors and  their  serfs.  This  was  for  him  thoroughly 
congenial  work,  and  he  executed  it  with  such  impar- 
tiality and  judgment  that  on  all  the  estates  for  which 
he  acted  as  arbiter  there  were  no  serious  quarrels 
or  misunderstandings.  In  1867  he  was  elected  a 
justice  of  the  peace  by  the  Zemstvo  Assembly,  and 
fulfils  his  new  duties  with  equal  ability.  He  is  at 
the  same  time  a  deputy  of  the  Assembly,  and  takes 
a  lively  interest  in  all  local  affairs. 

Though  he  visits  occasionally  the  great  St.  Peters- 
burg official,  when  that  personage  honours  the  dis- 
trict with  his  presence,  he  does  not  profess  to  have 
towards  him  any  sentiments  of  friendship  or  respect. 
On  the  contrary,  he  declares  him  to  be  a  walking 
incarnation  of  bureaucracy,  and  proclaims  bureau- 
cracy to  be  the  great  bane  of  Russia.  "These 
Tchinovniks,"  he  is  wont  to  say  in  moments  of 
excitement,  "who  live  in  St.  Petersburg  and  gov- 
ern the  country,  know  about  as  much  of  Russia 
as  they  do  of  China.  They  live  in  a  world  of  offi- 
cial documents,  and  know  nothing  of  the  real  wants 
and  interests  of  the  people.  So  long  as  all  the  re- 
quired formalities  are  duly  observed  they  are  per- 
fectly satisfied.     The  people  may  be  allowed  to  die 

313 


RUSSIA 

of  starvation  if  only  tlie  fact  do  not  appear  in  the 
official  reports.  Powerless  to  do  any  good  them- 
selves, they  are  powerful  enough  to  prevent  others, 
and  are  extremely  jealous  of  all  private  initiative. 
How  have  they  acted,  for  instance,  towards  the 
Zemstvo.'*  The  Zemstvo  is  really  a  good  institu- 
tion, and  might  have  done  great  things  if  it  had 
been  left  alone,  but  as  soon  as  it  began  to  show  a 
little  independent  energy  the  officials  at  once  clipped 
its  wings  and  then  strangled  it.  Towards  the  Press 
they  have  acted  in  the  same  way.  They  are  afraid 
of  the  Press,  because  they  fear  above  all  things 
a  healthy  public  opinion,  which  the  Press  alone 
can  create.  Everything  that  disturbs  the  habitual 
routine  alarms  them.  Russia  cannot  make  any  real 
progress  so  long  as  she  is  ruled  by  these  cursed 
Tchinovniks!'* 

The  amiable  brother  of  the  great  official  fares  no 
better  at  the  hands  of  the  liberal  justice  of  the  peace. 
He  is  not  a  Tchinovnik,  but  he  is  something  almost 
as  bad  —  a  "baritch,"  that  is  to  say  a  pampered, 
capricious,  spoiled  child,  whose  life  is  spent  in  ele- 
gant indolence-  and  fine  talking.  In  spite  of  his 
generous  aspirations  he  never  succeeds  in  doing  any- 
thing useful  to  himself  or  to  others.  When  the 
peasant  question  was  raised  and  there  was  work  to 
be  done,  he  went  abroad  and  talked  liberalism  in 
Paris  and  Baden-Baden.  Though  he  reads,  or  at 
least  professes  to  read,  books  on  agriculture,  and  is 
always  ready  to  discourse  on  the  best  means  of  pre- 
venting the  exhaustion  of  the  soil,  he  knows  less  of 

314 


MODERN   PROPRIETORS 

farming  than  a  peasant-boy  of  twelve,  and  when  he 
goes  into  the  fields  he  can  hardly  distinguish  rye 
from  oats.  Instead  of  babbling  about  German  and 
Italian  music,  he  would  do  well  to  learn  a  little  about 
practical  farming,  and  look  after  his  estate. 

Whilst  the  justice  of  the  peace  thus  censures  read- 
ily his  neighbours,  he  is  himself  not  without  de- 
tractors. Some  staid  old  proprietors  regard  him  as 
a  dangerous  man,  and  can  quote  certain  expres- 
sions of  his  which  seem  to  indicate  that  his  notions 
of  property  are  somewhat  loose.  Many  consider  that 
his  liberalism  is  of  a  very  violent  kind,  and  that 
he  has  strong  republican  sympathies.  In  his  de- 
cisions as  Justice  he  often  leans,  it  is  said,  to  the 
side  of  the  peasants  against  the  proprietors.  Then 
he  is  always  trying  to  induce  the  peasants  of  the 
neighbouring  villages  to  found  schools,  and  he  has 
wonderful  ideas  about  the  best  method  of  teaching 
children.  These  and  similar  facts  make  many  peo- 
ple believe  that  he  has  very  advanced  ideas,  and 
one  old  gentleman  habitually  calls  him  —  half  in 
joke  and  half  in  earnest  —  "our  friend  the  Com- 
munist." At  the  next  elections  for  justices  of  the 
peace  it  is  highly  probable  that  he  will  be  black- 
balled. Certainly  there  will  be  an  attempt  to  pre- 
vent his  re-election. 

In  reality  Alexander  Ivan'itch  has  nothing  of  the 
communist  about  him.  Though  he  loudly  denounces 
the  Tchinovnik  spirit  —  or,  as  we  should  say,  red- 
tapeism  in  all  its  forms  —  and  is  an  ardent  partisan 
of  local  self-government,  he  is  one  of  the  last  men 

315 


RUSSIA 

in  the  world  to  take  part  in  any  revolutionary  move- 
ment. He  would  like  to  see  the  Central  Government 
enlightened  and  controlled  by  public  opinion  and  by 
a  national  representation,  but  he  believes  that  this 
can  only  be  effected  by  voluntary  concessions  on  the 
part  of  the  autocratic  power.  He  has,  perhaps, 
a  certain  sentimental  love  of  the  peasantry,  and  is 
always  ready  to  advocate  its  interests;  but  he  has 
come  too  much  in  contact  with  individual  peasants 
to  accept  those  idealised  descriptions  in  which  some 
popular  writers  indulge,  and  it  may  safely  be  asserted 
that  the  accusation  of  his  voluntarily  favouring 
peasants  at  the  expense  of  proprietors  is  wholly 
unfounded.  Alexander  Ivan'itch  is,  in  fact,  a  quiet, 
sensible  man,  who  is  capable  of  generous  enthu- 
siasm, and  is  not  at  all  satisfied  with  the  existing 
state  of  things,  but  he  is  not  at  all  a  dreamer  and  a 
revolutionnaire^  as  some  of  his  neighbours  assert. 

I  am  afraid  I  cannot  say  as  much  for  his  younger 
brother  Nikolai,  who  lives  with  him.  Nikolai  Ivan- 
'itch is  a  tall  slender  man,  rather  over  thirty  years 
of  age,  with  emaciated  face,  bilious  complexion,  and 
long  black  hair  —  evidently  a  person  of  excitable, 
nervous  temperament.  When  he  speaks  he  articu- 
lates rapidly,  and  uses  more  gesticulation  than  is 
common  among  his  countrymen.  His  favourite  sub- 
ject of  conversation,  or  rather  of  discourse,  for  he 
more  frequently  preaches  than  talks,  is  the  lament- 
able state  of  the  country  and  the  worthlessness  of 
the  Government.  Against  the  Government  he  has 
a  great  many  causes  for  complaint,  and  one  or  two 

316 


MODERN    PROPRIETORS 

of  a  personal  kind.  In  1861  he  was  a  student  in 
the  University  of  St.  Petersburg.  At  that  time  there 
was  a  great  deal  of  public  excitement  all  over  Russia, 
and  especially  in  the  capital.  The  serfs  had  just 
been  emancipated,  and  other  important  reforms  had 
been  undertaken.  There  was  a  general  conviction 
among  the  young  generation  —  and  it  must  be  added 
among  many  older  men  —  that  the  autocratic,  pater- 
nal system  of  government  was  at  an  end,  and  that 
Russia  was  about  to  be  reorganised  according  to 
the  most  advanced  principles  of  political  and  social 
science.  The  students,  sharing  this  conviction, 
wished  to  be  freed  from  all  academical  authority, 
and  to  organise  a  kind  of  academical  self-government. 
They  desired  especially  the  right  of  holding  public 
meetings  for  the  discussion  of  their  common  affairs. 
The  authorities  could  not  allow  this,  and  issued  a 
list  of  rules  prohibiting  meetings  and  raising  the 
class-fees,  so  as  practically  to  exclude  many  of  the 
poorer  students.  This  was  felt  to  be  a  wanton  in- 
sult to  the  spirit  of  the  new  era.  In  spite  of  the 
prohibition,  indignation  meetings  were  held,  and 
fiery  speeches  made  by  male  and  female  orators, 
first  in  the  class-rooms  and  afterwards  in  the  court- 
yard of  the  University.  On  one  occasion  a  long 
procession  marched  through  the  principal  streets 
to  the  house  of  the  Curator.  Never  had  such  a 
spectacle  been  seen  before  in  St.  Petersburg;  timid 
people  feared  that  it  was  the  commencement  of  an 
insurrection,  and  dreamed  about  barricades.  At 
last  the  authorities  took  energetic  measures;  about 

317 


RUSSIA 

300  students  were  arrested,  and  of  these,  thirty-two 
were  expelled  from  the  University. 

Among  those  who  were  expelled  was  Nikolai  Ivan- 
'itch.  All  his  hopes  of  becoming  a  professor  as  he 
bad  intended  were  thereby  shipwrecked,  and  he  had 
to  look  out  for  some  other  profession.  A  literary 
career  now  seemed  the  most  promising,  and  cer- 
tainly the  most  congenial  to  his  tastes.  It  would 
enable  him  to  gratify  his  ambition  of  being  a  public 
man,  and  give  him  opportunities  of  attacking  and 
annoying  his  persecutors.  He  had  already  written 
occasionally  for  one  of  the  leading  periodicals,  and 
now  he  became  a  regular  contributor.  His  stock 
of  positive  knowledge  was  not  very  large,  but  he 
had  the  power  of  writing  fluently  and  of  making 
his  readers  believe  that  he  had  an  unlimited  store 
of  political  wisdom  which  the  Press  censure  pre- 
vented him  from  publishing.  Besides  this,  he  had 
the  talent  of  saying  sharp,  satirical  things  about 
those  in  authority,  in  such  a  way  that  even  a  Press 
censor  could  not  easily  raise  objections.  Articles 
written  in  this  style  were  sure  at  that  time  to  be 
very  successful,  and  his  articles  had  a  very  great 
success.  He  became  a  known  man  in  literary  circles, 
and  for  a  time  all  went  well.  But  gradually  he 
became  less  cautious,  whilst  the  authorities  became 
more  vigilant.  Some  copies  of  a  violent,  seditious 
proclamation  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  police,  and 
it  was  generally  believed  that  the  document  pro- 
ceeded from  the  coterie  to  which  he  belonged.  From 
that  moment   he   was   carefully   watched,   till   one 

318 


MODERN   PROPRIETORS 

night  he  was  unexpectedly  roused  from  his  sleep 
by  a  gendarme  and  conveyed  to  the  fortress. 

When  a  man  is  arrested  in  this  way  for  a  real  or 
supposed  political  offence,  there  are  two  modes  of 
dealing  with  him.  He  may  be  tried  before  a  regular 
tribunal,  or  he  may  be  dealt  with  "by  administra- 
tive procedure"  (administrativnym  poryadkom).  In 
the  former  case  he  will,  if  convicted,  be  condemned 
to  imprisonment  for  a  certain  term;  or  if  the  offence 
be  of  a  graver  nature,  he  may  be  transported  to 
Siberia  either  for  a  fixed  period  or  for  life.  By  the 
administrative  procedure  he  is  simply  removed  with- 
out a  trial  to  some  distant  town,  and  compelled 
to  live  there  under  police  supervision  during  his 
Majesty's  pleasure.  Nikolai"  Ivan'itch  was  treated 
"administratively,"  because  the  authorities,  though 
convinced  that  he  was  a  dangerous  character,  could 
not  find  sufficient  evidence  to  procure  his  conviction 
before  a  court  of  justice.  For  five  years  he  lived 
under  police  supervision  in  a  small  town  near  the 
White  Sea,  and  then  one  day  he  was  informed,  with- 
out any  explanation,  that  he  might  go  and  live 
anywhere  he  pleased  except  in  St.  Petersburg  and 
Moscow. 

Since  that  time  he  has  lived  with  his  brother,  and 
spends  his  time  in  brooding  over  his  grievances  and 
bewailing  his  shattered  illusions.  He  has  lost  none 
of  that  fluency  which  gained  him  an  ephemeral  liter- 
ary reputation,  and  can  speak  by  the  hour  on  polit- 
ical and  social  questions  to  any  one  who  will  listen 
to  him.     It  is  extremely  difficult,  however,  to  follow 

319 


RUSSIA 

his  discourses,  and  utterly  impossible  to  retain  them 
in  the  memory.  They  belong  to  what  may  be  called 
political  metaphysics  —  for  though  he  professes  to 
hold  metaphysics  in  abhorrence,  he  is  himself  a 
thorough  metaphysician  in  his  modes  of  thought. 
He  lives,  indeed,  in  a  world  of  abstract  conceptions, 
from  which  he  can  scarcely  perceive  concrete  facts, 
and  his  arguments  are  always  a  kind  of  clever 
juggling  with  such  equivocal,  conventional  terms  as 
aristocracy,  bourgeoisie,  monarchy,  and  the  like. 
At  concrete  facts  he  arrives,  not  directly  by  obser- 
vation, but  by  deductions  from  general  principles, 
so  that  his  facts  can  never  by  any  possibility  contra- 
dict his  theories.  Then  he  has  certain  axioms  which 
he  tacitly  assumes,  and  on  which  all  his  arguments 
are  based;  as,  for  instance,  that  everything  to  which 
the  term  "liberal"  can  be  applied  must  necessarily 
be  good  at  all  times  and  under  all  conditions. 

Nikolai  Ivan'itch  allows  himself  the  luxury  of  in- 
dulging in  some  very  decided  political  animosities, 
and  he  hates  as  only  a  fanatic  can  hate.  Firstly 
and  chiefly,  he  hates  what  he  calls  the  Bourgeoisie 

—  he  is  obliged  to  use  the  French  word,  because  his 
native  language  does  not  contain  an  equivalent  term 

—  and  especially  capitalists  of  all  sorts  and  dimen- 
sions. Next,  he  hates  Aristocracy,  especially  a  form 
of  aristocracy  called  Feudalism.  To  these  abstract 
terms  he  does  not  attach  a  very  precise  meaning, 
but  he  hates  the  entities  which  they  are  supposed  to 
represent,  quite  as  heartily  as  if  they  were  per- 
sonal enemies.     Among  the  things  which  he  hates 

320 


MODERN   PROPRIETORS 

in  his  own  country,  the  Autocratic  power  holds 
the  first  place.  Next,  as  an  emanation  from  the 
Autocratic  power,  come  the  Tchinovniks,  and  espe- 
cially the  gendarmes.  Then  come  the  landed  pro- 
prietors. Though  he  is  —  or  at  least  will  be  after 
his  mother's  death  —  himself  a  landed  proprietor, 
he  regards  the  class  as  cumberers  of  the  ground, 
and  [thinks  that  all  their  land  should  be  confiscated 
and  distributed  among  the  peasantry. 

All  proprietors  have  the  misfortune  to  come  under 
his  sweeping  denunciations,  because  they  are  incon- 
sistent with  his  ideal  of  a  peasant  Empire,  but  he 
recognises  amongst  them  degrees  of  depravity.  Some 
are  simply  obstructive,  whilst  others  are  actively 
prejudicial    to    the   public    welfare.     Among   these 

latter  a  special  object  of  aversion  is  Prince  S , 

because  he  not  only  possesses  very  large  estates,  but 
at  the  same  time  has  aristocratic  pretensions,  and 
calls  himself  a  Conservative. 

Prince  S is  by  far  the  most  important  man 

in  the  district.  His  family  is  one  of  the  oldest  in 
the  country  —  being  descended  from  no  less  a  per- 
sonage than  Rurik,  who  is  supposed  to  have  founded 
the  Russian  Empire  a  thousand  years  ago  —  but 
he  does  not  owe  his  influence  to  his  pedigree,  for 
pedigree  pure  and  simple  does  not  count  for  much 
in  Russia.  He  is  influential  and  respected,  because 
he  holds  a  high  official  position,  and  belongs  by  birth 
to  that  group  of  families  which  forms  the  permanent 
nucleus  of  the  ever-changing  Court  society.  His 
father  and  grandfather  were  important  personages 

RUSSIA   1  —  21  321 


RUSSIA 

in  the  Administration  and  at  Court,  and  his  sons 
and  grandsons  will  probably  in  this  respect  follow  in 
the  footsteps  of  their  ancestors.  Though  in  the  eye 
of  the  law  all  nobles  are  equal,  and,  theoretically 
speaking,  promotion  is  gained  exclusively  by  per- 
sonal merit,  yet,  in  reality,  those  who  have  friends 
at  Court  rise  more  easily  and  more  rapidly. 

The  Prince  has  had  a  prosperous  but  not  very 
eventful  life.  He  was  educated,  first  at  home,  under 
an  English  tutor,  and  afterwards  in  the  "Corps  des 
Pages."  On  leaving  this  institution  he  entered  a 
regiment  of  the  Guards,  and  has  since  steadily  risen 
to  high  military  rank.  His  activity,  however,  has 
been  chiefly  in  the  civil  administration,  and  he  now 
has  a  seat  in  the  Council  of  State.  Though  he  has 
always  taken  a  certain  interest  in  public  affairs,  he 
did  not  play  an  important  part  in  any  of  the  great 
reforms  of  the  present  reign.  When  the  peasant 
question  was  raised  he  sympathised  with  the  idea 
of  Emancipation,  but  did  not  at  all  sympathise  with 
the  idea  of  giving  land  to  the  emancipated  serfs 
and  preserving  the  communal  institutions.  What 
he  desired  was  that  the  proprietors  should  liberate 
their  serfs  without  any  pecuniary  indemnity,  and 
should  receive  in  return  a  certain  share  of  political 
power.  His  scheme  was  not  adopted,  but  he  has 
not  relinquished  the  hope  that  the  great  landed  pro- 
prietors may  somehow  obtain  a  social  and  political 
position  similar  to  that  of  the  great  landowners  in 
England;  and  he  thinks  that  this  might  be  in  part 
accomplished  by  putting  into  their  hands  the  local 

322 


MODERN    PROPRIETORS 

administration  in  rural  affairs.  He  does  not  wish, 
however,  that  the  great  landowners  should  in  return 
bear  a  large  part  of  the  local  rates,  and  he  overlooks 
the  fact  that  they  would  have  to  change  their  charac- 
ter and  learn  to  prefer  local  influence  to  high  official 
position  and  Imperial  favour. 

Official  duties  and  social  relations  compel  the  Prince 
to  spend  a  large  part  of  the  year  in  the  capital.     He 
spends  only  a  few  weeks  yearly  on  his  estate  —  some- 
times only  a  few  days.    The  house  is  large,  and  fitted 
up  in  the  English  style,  with  a  view  to  combining 
elegance  and  comfort.     It  contains  several  spacious 
apartments,  a  library,  and  a  billiard-room.     There 
is  an  extensive  park  with  a  score  of  fallow-deer,  an 
immense  garden  with  hot-houses,  numerous  horses 
afid  carriages,  and  a  legion  of  servants.     WTien  the 
family  arrive  they  bring  with  them  an  English  and 
French  governess  and  an  English  tutor  for  the  chil- 
dren.    There  is  always  a  regular  supply  of  English 
and  French  books,  newspapers,  and  periodicals,  and 
the  Jourrial  de  St.  Petersbourg,  which  gives  the  news 
of  the  day.     Russian  books  and  newspapers  could 
easily  be  obtained  if  any  one  desired  them.     The 
family  have,  in  short,  all  the  conveniences  and  com- 
forts which  money  and  refinement  can  procure,  but 
It  cannot  be  said  that  they  greatly  enjoy  the  time 
spent  in  the  country.     The  Princess  has  no  decided 
objection  to  it.     She  is  devoted  to  her  children,  is 
fond  of  reading  and  correspondence,  amuses  herself 
with  a  school  and  hospital  which  she  has  founded  for 
the  peasantry,  and  occasionally  drives  over  to  see  her 

323 


RUSSIA 

friend,  the  Countess  N ,  who  lives  about  fifteen 

miles  off.  But  the  Prince  finds  country  life  exces- 
sively dull.  He  does  not  care  for  riding  or  shooting, 
and  he  finds  nothing  else  to  do.  He  knows  nothing 
about  the  management  of  his  estate,  and  holds  con- 
sultations with  the  steward  merely  pro  forma  —  this 
estate,  and  the  others  which  he  possesses  in  differ- 
ent provinces,  being  ruled  by  a  head-steward  in 
St.  Petersburg,  in  whom  he  has  the  most  complete 
confidence.  In  the  vicinity  there  is  no  one  with 
whom  he  cares  to  associate.  Naturally  he  is  not  a 
sociable  man,  and  he  has  acquired  a  stiff,  formal, 
reserved  manner  that  is  common  in  England,  but 
rarely  to  be  met  with  in  Russia.  This  manner 
repels  the  neighbouring  proprietors  —  a  fact  that  he 
does  not  at  all  regret,  for  they  do  not  belong  to  his 
monde,  and  they  have  in  their  manners  and  habits 
a  free-and-easy  rusticity  which  is  positively  dis- 
agreeable to  him.  His  relations  with  them  are  there- 
fore confined  to  formal  calls.  The  greater  part  of  the 
day  he  spends  in  listless  loitering,  frequently  yawn- 
ing, regretting  the  pleasant  routine  of  St.  Peters- 
burg life  —  the  pleasant  chats  with  his  colleagues, 
the  opera,  the  ballet,  the  French  theatre,  and  the 
quiet  rubber  at  the  "Club  Anglais."  His  spirits 
rise  as  the  day  of  his  departure  approaches,  and 
when  he  drives  off  to  the  station  he  looks  bright  and 
cheerful.  If  he  consulted  merely  his  own  tastes  he 
would  never  visit  his  estates  at  all,  and  would  spend 
his  summer  holidays  in  Germany,  France,  or  Switzer- 
land, as  he  did  in  his  bachelor  days;  but  he  is  now 

324 


MODERN    PROPRIETORS 

father  of  a  family,  and  considers  it  right  to  sacrifice 
his  personal  inclinations  to  the  duties  of  his  position. 

The  Prince  belongs  to  the  highest  rank  of  the 
Russian  Noblesse.  If  we  wish  to  get  an  idea  of  the 
lowest  rank  we  have  merely  to  go  to  the  neighbour- 
ing village.  There  we  shall  find  a  number  of  poor, 
uneducated  men,  who  live  in  small,  squalid  houses, 
and  are  not  easily  to  be  distinguished  from  peasants. 
They  are  nobles,  like  the  Prince;  but,  unlike  him, 
they  have  neither  oflicial  rank  nor  large  fortune, 
and  their  landed  property  consists  of  a  few  acres  of 
poor  land,  which  barely  supplies  them  with  the  first 
necessaries  of  life.  If  we  went  to  other  parts  of  the 
country  we  might  find  men  in  this  condition  bearing 
the  title  of  prince!  This  is  the  natural  result  of  the 
Russian  law  of  inheritance,  which  does  not  recognise 
the  principle  of  primogeniture  with  regard  to  titles 
and  estates.  All  the  sons  of  a  prince  are  princes, 
and  at  his  death  his  property,  movable  and  immov- 
able, is  divided  equally  amongst  them  all. 

Now  that  the  reader  has  made  the  acquaintance 
of  some  Russian  nobles,  he  may  perhaps  desire  to 
know  something  of  the  Noblesse  as  a  class.  I 
use  here  a  foreign,  in  preference  to  an  English, 
term,  because  the  word  "Nobility"  would  convey 
an  utterly  false  impression.  Etymologically  the 
Russian  word  "Dvoryanin"  means  a  courtier  (from 
Dvor  =  court) ;  but  this  term  is  equally  objection- 
able, because  the  great  majority  of  the  Dvoryan- 
stvo  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  Court. 

The  Russian  Noblesse  has  had  a  peculiar  historical 

325 


RUSSIA 

development.  In  Germany,  France,  and  England 
the  nobles  were  early  formed  into  a  homogeneous 
organised  body  by  the  political  conditions  in  which 
they  were  placed.  They  had  to  repel  the  encroach- 
ing tendencies  of  Monarchy  on  the  one  hand,  and 
of  the  Bourgeoisie  on  the  other;  and  in  this  long 
struggle  with  powerful  rivals  they  instinctively  held 
together  and  developed  a  vigorous  esprit  de  corps. 
New  members  penetrated  into  their  ranks,  but  the 
number  of  these  intruders  was  so  small  that  they 
were  rapidly  assimilated  without  modifying  the  gen- 
eral character  or  recognised  ideals  of  the  class,  and 
without  rudely  disturbing  the  fiction  of  purity  of 
blood.  The  class  thus  assumed  more  and  more  the 
nature  of  a  caste  with  a  peculiar  intellectual  and 
moral  culture,  and  stoutly  defended  its  position  and 
privileges  till  the  ever-increasing  power  of  the  mid- 
dle classes  undermined  its  influence.  Its  fate  in  dif- 
ferent countries  has  been  different.  In  Germany  it 
climg  to  its  feudal  traditions,  and  still  preserves  its 
social  exclusiveness.  In  France  it  was  deprived  of  its 
political  influence  by  the  Monarchy  and  crushed  by 
the  Revolution.  In  England  it  moderated  its  pre- 
tensions, allied  itself  with  the  middle  classes,  created 
under  the  disguise  of  constitutional  monarchy  an 
aristocratic  republic,  and  conceded  inch  by  inch,  as 
necessity  demanded,  a  share  of  its  political  influence 
to  the  ally  that  had  helped  it  to  curb  the  Royal 
power.  Thus  the  German  baron,  the  French  gentil- 
homme,  and  the  English  nobleman  represent  three 
distinct,  well-marked   types;   but   amidst   all  their 

326 


MODERN   PROPRIETORS 

diversities  they  have  much  in  common.  They  have 
all  preserved  to  a  greater  or  less  extent  a  haughty 
consciousness  of  innate  inextinguishable  superiority 
over  the  lower  orders,  together  with  a  more  or  less 
carefully  disguised  dislike  for  the  class  which  has 
been,  and  still  is,  an  aggressive  rival. 

The  Russian  Noblesse  has  not  these  characteris- 
tics. It  was  formed  out  of  more  numerous  and  more 
heterogeneous  materials,  and  these  materials  did  not 
spontaneously  combine  to  form  an  organic  whole, 
but  were  crushed  into  a  conglomerate  mass  by  the 
weight  of  the  autocratic  power.  It  never  became  a 
semi-independent  factor  in  the  State.  What  rights 
and  privileges  it  possesses  it  received  from  the  Mon- 
archy, and  consequently  it  has  no  deep-rooted  jeal- 
ousy or  hatred  of  the  Imperial  prerogative.  On  the 
other  hand,  it  has  never  had  to  struggle  with  the  other 
social  classes,  and  therefore  it  harbours  towards  them 
no  feelings  of  rivalry  or  hostility.  If  we  hear  a  Rus- 
sian noble  speak  with  indignation  of  autocracy  or 
with  acrimony  of  the  bourgeoisie,  we  may  be  sure  that 
these  feelings  have  their  source,  not  in  traditional 
mediaeval  conceptions,  but  in  principles  learned  from 
the  modern  schools  of  social  and  political  philosophy. 
The  class  to  which  he  belongs  has  undergone  so  many 
transformations  that  it  has  no  hoary  traditions  or 
deep-rooted  prejudices,  and  always  willingly  adapts 
itself  to  existing  conditions.  Indeed,  it  may  be  said 
in  general  that  it  looks  more  to  the  future  than  the 
past,  and  is  ever  ready  to  accept  any  new  ideas  that 
wear  the  badge  of  progress.     Its  freedom  from  tradi- 

327 


RUSSIA 

tions  and  prejudices  makes  it  singularly  susceptible 
of  generous  enthusiasm  and  capable  of  vigorous  spas- 
modic action,  but  calm  moral  courage  and  tenacity 
of  purpose  are  not  among  its  prominent  attributes. 
In  a  word,  we  find  in  it  neither  the  peculiar  virtues 
nor  the  peculiar  vices  which  are  engendered  and 
fostered  by  an  atmosphere  of  political  liberty. 

However  we  may  explain  the  fact,  there  is  no 
doubt  that  the  Russian  Noblesse  has  little  or  nothing 
of  what  we  call  aristocratic  feeling  —  little  or  nothing 
of  that  haughty,  domineering,  exclusive  spirit  which 
we  are  accustomed  to  associate  with  the  word  Aris- 
tocracy. We  find  plenty  of  Russians  who  are  proud 
of  their  wealth,  of  their  culture,  or  of  their  official 
position,  but  we  scarcely  ever  find  a  Russian  who  is 
proud  of  his  birth  or  imagines  that  the  fact  of  his 
having  a  long  pedigree  gives  him  any  right  to  political 
privileges  or  social  consideration.  Such  ideas  appear 
to  the  ordinary  Russian  noble  absurd  and  ridiculous. 
Hence  there  is  a  certain  amount  of  truth  in  the  oft- 
repeated  saying  that  there  is  in  reality  no  aristocracy 
in  Russia. 

Certainly  the  Noblesse  as  a  whole  cannot  be 
called  an  aristocracy.  If  the  term  is  to  be  used  at 
all,  it  must  be  applied  to  a  group  of  families  which 
cluster  around  the  Court  and  form  the  highest  ranks 
of  the  Noblesse.  This  social  aristocracy  contains 
many  old  families,  but  its  real  basis  is  official  rank 
and  general  culture  rather  than  pedigree  or  blood. 
The  feudal  conceptions  of  noble  birth,  good  family, 
and  the  like  have  been  adopted  by  some  of  its  mem- 

328 


MODERN   PROPRIETORS 

bers,  but  do  not  form  one  of  its  conspicuous  features. 
Though  habitually  practising  a  certain  exclusiveness, 
it  has  none  of  those  characteristics  of  a  caste  which 
we  find  in  the  German  Adel^  and  is  utterly  unable 
to  understand  such  institutions  as  Tafelfdhigkeity 
by  which  a  man  who  has  not  a  pedigree  of  a  certain 
length  is  considered  unworthy  to  sit  down  at  a 
royal  table.  It  takes  rather  the  English  aristocracy 
as  its  model,  and  harbours  the  secret  hope  of  one 
day  obtaining  a  social  and  political  position  simi- 
lar to  that  of  the  nobility  and  gentry  of  England. 
Though  it  has  no  peculiar  legal  privileges,  its  actual 
position  in  the  Administration  and  at  Court  gives 
its  members  great  facilities  for  advancement  in  the 
public  service.  On  the  other  hand,  its  semi-bureau- 
cratic character,  together  with  the  law  and  custom 
of  dividing  landed  property  among  the  children  at 
the  death  of  their  parents,  deprives  it  of  stability. 
New  men  force  their  way  into  it  by  official  distinc- 
tion, whilst  many  of  the  old  families  are  compelled 
by  poverty  to  retire  from  its  ranks.  The  son  of  a 
small  proprietor  or  even  of  a  parish  priest  may  rise 
to  the  highest  offices  of  State,  whilst  the  descendants 
of  the  half -mythical  Rurik  may  descend  to  the  rank 
of  peasants.  It  is  said  that  not  long  ago  a  certain 
Prince  Krapotkin  gained  his  living  as  a  cabman  in 
St.  Petersburg! 

It  is  evident,  then,  that  this  social  aristocracy 
must  not  be  confounded  with  the  titled  families. 
Titles  do  not  possess  the  same  value  in  Russia  as 
in   Western    Europe.     They   are   very   common  — 

329 


RUSSIA 

because  the  titled  families  are  numerous,  and  all  the 
children  bear  the  titles  of  the  parents  even  while 
the  parents  are  still  alive  —  and  they  are  by  no 
means  always  associated  with  official  rank,  wealth, 
social  position,  or  distinction  of  any  kind.  There  are 
hundreds  of  princes  and  princesses  who  have  not 
the  right  to  appear  at  Court,  and  who  would  not  be 
admitted  into  what  is  called  in  St.  Petersburg  la 
societe,  or  indeed  into  refined  society  in  any  country. 

The  only  genuine  Russian  title  is  Knyaz,  com- 
monly translated  "Prince."  It  is  borne  by  the 
descendants  of  Rurik,  of  the  Lithuanian  Prince 
Ghedimin,  and  of  the  Tartar  Khans  and  Murzi 
officially  recognised  by  the  Tsars.  Besides  these, 
there  are  fourteen  families  who  have  adopted  it  by 
Imperial  command  during  the  last  two  centuries. 
The  titles  of  count  and  baron  are  modern  importa- 
tions, beginning  with  the  time  of  Peter  the  Great. 
From  Peter  and  his  successors  sixty-seven  families 
have  received  the  title  of  coimt  and  ten  that  of 
baron.  The  latter  are  all,  with  two  exceptions,  of 
foreign  extraction,  and  are  mostly  descended  from 
Court  Bankers. 

There  is  a  very  common  idea  that  Russian  nobles 
are  as  a  rule  enormously  rich.  This  is  a  mistake. 
The  majority  of  them  are  poor.  At  the  time  of  the 
Emancipation,  in  1861,  there  were  100,247  landed 
proprietors,  and  of  these,  more  than  41,000  were 
possessors  of  less  than  twenty-one  male  serfs  —  that 
is  to  say,  were  in  a  condition  of  poverty.  A  pro- 
prietor who  was  owner  of  500  serfs  was  not  considered 

330 


MODERN   PROPRIETORS 

as  by  any  means  very  rich,  and  yet  there  were 
only  3,803  proprietors  belonging  to  that  category. 
There  were  a  few,  indeed,  whose  possessions  were 
enormous.  Count  Sheremetief,  for  instance,  pos- 
sessed more  than  150,000  male  serfs,  or  in  other  words 
more  than  300,000  souls;  and  at  the  present  day 
Count  Orloff-Davydof  owns  considerably  more  than 
half  a  million  of  acres.  The  Demidof  family  derive 
colossal  revenues  from  their  mines,  and  the  Stro- 
gonofs  have  estates  which,  if  put  together,  would 
be  sufficient  in  extent  to  form  a  good-sized  inde- 
pendent state  in  Western  Europe.  The  very  rich 
families,  however,  are  not  numerous.  The  lavish 
expenditure  in  which  Russian  nobles  often  indulge 
indicates  too  frequently  not  large  fortune,  but 
simply  foolish  ostentation  and  reckless  improvi- 
dence. Of  the  present  economic  position  of  the 
proprietors  I  shall  have  more  to  say  when  I  come 
to  speak  of  serf-emancipation  and  its  consequences. 
Perhaps,  I  ought  to  endeavour  to  cast  the  horo- 
scope of  the  Noblesse  or  at  least  to  say  something  of 
its  probable  future.  Though  predictions  are  always 
hazardous,  it  is  sometimes  possible,  by  tracing  the 
great  lines  of  history  in  the  past,  to  follow  them  for 
a  little  distance  into  the  future.  If  it  be  allowable 
to  apply  this  method  of  prediction  in  the  present 
matter,  I  should  say  that  the  Russian  Dvoryanstvo 
will  assimilate  with  the  other  classes  rather  than 
form  itself  into  an  exclusive  corporation.  Hereditary 
aristocracies  may  be  preserved  —  or  at  least  their 
decomposition  may  be  retarded  —  where  they  happen 

331 


RUSSIA 

to  exist,  but  it  seems  that  they  can  no  longer  be 
created.  In  Western  Europe  there  is  a  large  amount 
of  aristocratic  sentiment,  both  in  the  nobles  and  in 
the  people,  but  it  exists  in  spite  of,  rather  than  in 
consequence  of,  actual  social  conditions.  It  is  not  a 
product  of  modern  society,  but  an  heirloom  that  has 
come  down  to  us  from  feudal  times,  when  power, 
wealth,  and  culture  were  in  the  hands  of  a  privileged 
few.  If  there  ever  was  in  Russia  a  period  corre- 
sponding to  the  feudal  times  in  Western  Europe  it 
has  long  since  been  forgotten.  There  is  very  little 
aristocratic  sentiment  either  in  the  people  or  in  the 
nobles,  and  it  is  difficult  to  imagine  any  source  from 
which  it  could  now  be  derived.  More  than  this,  the 
nobles  do  not  desire  to  make  such  an  acquisition. 
In  so  far  as  they  have  any  political  aspirations  they 
aim  at  securing  the  political  liberty  of  the  people  as 
a  whole,  and  not  at  acquiring  exclusive  rights  and 
privileges  for  their  own  class. 

In  that  section  which  I  have  called  a  social  aris- 
tocracy there  are  a  few  individuals  who  desire  to  gain 
exclusive  political  influence  for  the  class  to  which  they 
belong,  but  there  is  very  little  chance  of  their  suc- 
ceeding. Those  who  dislike  the  autocratic  power 
dislike  the  idea  of  an  aristocratic  oligarchy  infinitely 
more.  Nobles  and  people  alike  seem  to  hold  instinc- 
tively the  creed  of  the  French  philosopher  who 
thought  it  better  to  be  governed  by  a  lion  of  good 
family  than  by  a  hundred  rats  of  his  own  species. 


332 


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